


music (when soft voices die)

by InterstellarBlue (nagi_schwarz)



Series: The Strongest Form of Magic [5]
Category: ASTRO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Angst, Bigotry & Prejudice, Blood and Violence, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Minor Park Jinwoo | Jinjin/Original Female Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-18
Updated: 2020-09-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:14:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 29
Words: 133,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25974223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nagi_schwarz/pseuds/InterstellarBlue
Summary: For years, Minhyuk has been in love with Myungjun, and now they're finally together, but the secret he's keeping could tear them - and their entire team - apart. Unfortunately, he's not the only one keeping secrets, and as the truth unravels, so does everything Minhyuk has worked for his entire life.
Relationships: Kim Myungjun | MJ/Park Minhyuk | Rocky
Series: The Strongest Form of Magic [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1641382
Comments: 86
Kudos: 102
Collections: WIP Big Bang Challenge 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Selenic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Selenic/gifts).



> So much gratitude to the amazing [Selenic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Selenic/pseuds/Selenic) for the absolutely beautiful [art](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25858222) she did for this story, which you should go check out and leave so much love for, because knowing she was working hard on it helped inspire me to push forward and finish this story that otherwise might have remained unfinished forever.
> 
> Even more gratitude goes to the lovely [vonseal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vonseal/pseuds/vonseal) and [Brumeier](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brumeier/pseuds/Brumeier) for their invaluable beta work and cheerleading and handholding through this process (and it's been a grueling process).
> 
> And so much gratitude goes to my family for putting up with my crazy while I wrote this (seriously, 93k of this happened in the month of July, so).

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” Myungjun said.

Minhyuk nodded and ducked his head, mouthed along Myungjun’s throat some more. His skin was warm and tangy after a hard morning of training.

Myungjun groaned and tangled his fingers in Minhyuk’s hair, holding him close. “But I - I don’t think I can stop.”

Minhyuk nosed Myungjun’s collar aside and nibbled along his collarbone. Myungjun whimpered and clung to him tighter. Minhyuk’s heart raced. Myungjun was warm and soft and _alive_ in his arms, and after so many years of wanting, Minhyuk finally had him. Myungjun’s hands on him were hot, frantic, in his hair, at his shoulder, at his waist. When his fingers dipped beneath the hem of Minhyuk’s t-shirt, brushed his bare skin, Minhyuk gasped.

Myungjun ducked his head and caught Minhyuk in a kiss, open-mouthed and passionate.

Minhyuk’s heart skipped a beat. 

Myungjun tasted like honey and sunlight.

Footsteps thundered in the hallway.

Minhyuk wrenched himself back.

Myungjun stumbled and caught himself against the wall, dazed and confused. “Minhyukie, what -?”

The practice room door flew open, and Sanha sprinted across the floor, Bin hot on his heels.

“Save me!” Sanha ducked behind Minhyuk, giggling wildly.

Bin roared and lunged, grabbing at Minhyuk to try to get to Sanha.

“Hyung! Leave me out of this!” Minhyuk tried to wriggle free, but Sanha had been working out lately and was a lot stronger. 

“I’ll get you,” Bin spat.

Sanha shrieked and buried his face against Minhyuk’s shoulder.

Bin tackled him, and all three of them landed on the floor. 

Minhyuk, dizzy and winded, finally managed to crawl free of Bin and Sanha’s brawl. On the other side of the practice room, Jinwoo stood beside Myungjun, offering him a water bottle and looking concerned. 

“Are you all right?” Jinwoo asked. 

“I’m fine,” Myungjun said. He sounded a little breathless. “We worked hard while you were gone.”

“We weren’t gone very long,” Eunwoo said. He strode into the practice room laden with bags of food, gaze assessing. 

Minhyuk’s heartbeat stuttered. Ever since that first kiss in the dorm a month ago, Minhyuk and Myungjun had managed to keep their relationship a secret. Eunwoo had almost caught them, and every other time they’d had a close call, Eunwoo had been involved, but they were both sure he hadn’t found them out.

“Long enough,” Myungjun said, fanning himself with the collar of his shirt. “You know what Minhyuk is like. He goes hard.”

Eunwoo slewed Minhyuk a glance that he couldn’t read but made him swallow hard. “He does.”

Bin pinned Sanha to the floor, and Sanha giggled and squirmed.

“I’m sorry! I’ll never make fun of your lips again!”

Bin grinned, triumphant. “Damn right you won’t. And why?”

“Because your lips don’t exist!”

_“Yah!”_ Bin jabbed his fingers into Sanha’s ribs, and Sanha shrieked helplessly, because he was ticklish.

Eunwoo marched over to them.

“Hyung! Help me!” Sanha kicked his legs ineffectually.

Eunwoo reached out and peeled one of Bin’s hands away from Sanha’s ribs - and attacked himself, making Sanha laugh and squeal more.

“Are you sure you’re all right?” Jinwoo asked Myungjun.

Myungjun nodded, draining half of the water bottle.

Jinwoo reached out. “What’s that mark on your shoulder?”

Minhyuk’s heart crawled into his throat.

“Were you two wrestling? Did he hurt you?” Jinwoo pressed.

“No,” Myungjun said. He clapped a hand over the bruise. 

“I would never hurt him,” Minhyuk protested, crossing the practice room.

Jinwoo narrowed his eyes at Minhyuk. “I know we’re all under a lot of pressure, what with our fourth anniversary and then the next comeback, but we have to pace ourselves.” He turned back to Myungjun. “So just - eat well, and work out, and everything will be fine.”

Minhyuk curled his hands into fists. They’d all done it in the past, made fun of Myungjun’s weight and how much he ate. Minhyuk did his best not to join in when Bin and Sanha made fun of him, though he did encourage Myungjun to work out more. Because it wasn’t good, the way Myungjun only ate one meal a day in the weeks leading up to their comeback showcase. 

“I know that,” Myungjun said. “Really, it’s fine. We just worked on some choreo.”

Jinwoo eyed him, then Minhyuk. Bin, Sanha, and Eunwoo had stopped horsing around and were watching, wide-eyed.

“All right, then,” Jinwoo said. “Let’s eat.”

The others nodded, and they sat in a circle and divvied up the food between them.

While they ate, they talked - about Bin’s upcoming drama, Eunwoo finishing the basketball variety show and moving on to another show, Bin and Sanha’s MC gig for a music show, Jinwoo and Myungjun appearing on a food show, people’s drama OST projects. 

“Hyung,” Sanha said to Minhyuk, “you need to work harder.”

“I’m working hard. I talk to our fans on Vlive more,” Minhyuk protested. “And I’ve been working on some covers.”

Myungjun nodded. “I’ve been helping him with his vocal technique. You’ll be impressed.”

Eunwoo cast them both a look Minhyuk couldn’t quite decipher.

Myungjun reached out and patted Minhyuk on the head condescendingly, like he’d done a thousand times before, only this time Minhyuk felt a little thrill he’d never felt before. This time it wasn’t just hyung-dongsaeng affection. 

“My little songbird is coming along so well. I’m such a good teacher.”

“Thank you, hyungnim,” Minhyuk said with mock-solemnity, bowing deeply, though unease whispered in his blood at being called a songbird. 

“You’re welcome. Keep working hard, little student.” Myungjun put a piece of chicken on top of Minhyuk’s rice. “Eat well and stay strong.”

Minhyuk grinned. “I’ll eat it well.”

“You’re getting left in the dust,” Sanha said to Jinwoo. “Everyone in this room but you can sing.”

“Yah,” Bin said. “Our fearless leader sings very well.”

Jinwoo nodded magnanimously. 

“In his limited three-note range,” Bin continued, and Jinwoo flicked a straw wrapper at him in protest.

“Yah!”

“Don’t listen to them.” Myungjun gave Jinwoo a piece of chicken. “You sound just like Bin when you sing, and he’s jealous, because you’re a better dancer and also a rapper.”

It was Bin’s turn to protest.

Eunwoo, because he wasn’t about to be left out, added, “And also he’s the visual of the group.”

Bin’s eyes went wide. “You too?”

Myungjun grinned and held a piece of chicken out to Eunwoo, who ate it with a smirk.

Minhyuk wondered if he was the only one who noticed that Myungjun barely ate any of his own food.

* * *

“We almost got caught,” Myungjun said quietly.

“In the practice room - that was probably unwise,” Minhyuk admitted.

Hours after practice, Sanha was still in the den with the others, supervising their use of his laptop. The room the three of them shared was a bit cramped, but then they rarely spent time in there; it was the place where they slept and little else. All socializing happened in the den.

“Good thing you heard someone coming,” Myungjun said. He was putting away the clean, folded clothes that the cleaning lady had put on his bed. 

Minhyuk moved to stand beside him, put away his own clothes. They all had their designated drawers in the dresser. Being elbow-to-elbow in this space was a daily affair, but his heart still raced at being this close to Myungjun.

“I have good ears,” he said. He cleared his throat. “I didn’t mean to leave a mark. I’ll be more careful next time.”

“It’s hard to be careful, when we’re kissing like that.” 

Minhyuk glanced at Myungjun out of the corner of his eye. Was he upset that Minhyuk had been barely better than a desperate teenager? Minhyuk had never forgotten, for one second since the day he and Myungjun met, that Myungjun was five years older than him. Even though Sanha was Myungjun’s best friend on the team and they shared the same childish energy, Myungjun was still the oldest. He hadn’t become a trainee till after he finished high school, where Minhyuk had started training the summer after fifth grade, and sometimes it was like they were from different worlds. Myungjun had had freedoms Minhyuk couldn’t imagine.

“I wish you didn’t have to be careful,” Myungjun continued. “We’re both boys. Management should be happy that we like each other and we keep it within the team.”

It was a well-kept industry secret, that boys who liked boys were more likely to be selected for debut on a team, because they were less likely to be lured and drained by a beautiful song-eater.

“They told us when we were trainees. We’re not supposed to date our own team members.” Minhyuk bit his lip.

Myungjun sighed and closed his drawer, sank down on the edge of his bunk. “But we work hard and we’re always so busy. Dating someone outside the team is a bigger distraction.”

“I agree, but - rules are rules.” Minhyuk finished putting his clothes away and sat beside Myungjun.

Myungjun peered at him. “You’re even more uptight about following rules than Eunwoo is. I never realized it, in the beginning.”

“I get what I want if I follow the rules,” Minhyuk said. He’d told himself that a thousand times, even before he became a trainee. If he didn’t want to be discovered by a Songbird and killed, there were strict rules he had to follow. 

“But now what you want is me.” Myungjun tilted his head curiously. “When did you first realize you liked me? If there even was a single moment.”

Minhyuk studied Myungjun, but there was no judgment on his face, just genuine curiosity. “We were living in the dorms for the first time -”

“That long? And you managed to resist this?” Myungjun gestured to himself and waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Minhyuk nudged him. “Myungjunnie, come on.” When it was just the two of them, he didn’t have to call Myungjun _hyung._ “I was sixteen. I’d barely started high school. You didn’t think of me as a man.”

Myungjun winced. “Don’t remind me. But - all the way back then? Really?”

Minhyuk nodded. “Yeah. You’d gone out for drinks with your non-trainee friends, and you stumbled home drunk, and you didn’t want to wake the others by going into their room, so you stayed in the den with me. You held me, and you just...talked to me. About what it was like, going to a regular high school, and your favorite songs to sing. We’d never really talked that much before then. And - I liked you.”

Myungjun’s expression softened, and he curled his hand through Minhyuk’s squeezed.

Then Minhyuk asked Myungjun. “When did you realize you liked me?”

“I’ve always respected you and admired you, for how hard you work, from the first day we met in the practice room,” Myungjun said. “I don’t know when that changed. But one day I looked at you and I wanted more. I think it was around the time you graduated from high school. Everything that year was - chaos. But you - you never stopped dancing. You kept going. You were our center, our -”

“Rock.” Minhyuk rolled his eyes.

Myungjun nudged him. “Don’t take it badly. You trained hard. You never gave up. Recording was so hard for you, and when we went back into the studio for our special mini-album, it was even harder after so much time away, but you hung in there.”

Minhyuk nodded warily. The others thought he had anxiety about recording. The recording process itself wasn’t what scared him. It was being in an enclosed space with live singers and musicians that frightened him. One wrong slip and everyone would realize what he was.

Myungjun cleared his throat. “And then you were on Dance War, and you were really, really hot. I don’t often get to watch you perform, just you dancing.”

“You watched that?” Minhyuk frowned. “But during the concert in Seoul, you didn’t know that I’d placed second.”

Myungjun shrugged delicately. “Like I said, in my heart, you’d won.”

“Myungjunnie, I -”

“We’re together now,” Myungjun said. “Everything we’ve gone through allowed us to reach this point, so let’s just go forward without regrets.” He squeezed Minhyuk’s hand again.

Minhyuk nodded. “Okay.”

Myungjun said, softly, “I love you.” He closed his eyes and leaned in.

Minhyuk, trembling, kissed him.

Every kiss was dangerous. Every kiss was madness. With every kiss they ran the risk of the others finding out, of management or someone outside the team or company finding out. Minhyuk ran the risk of exposing himself - or worse, hurting Myungjun. 

But Myungjun’s kisses made warmth sparkle under Minhyuk’s skin, and his lips were soft, and his hands on Minhyuk’s shoulders were gentle.

They parted to catch their breath.

“How long do you think Sanha will be?” Myungjun panted.

Minhyuk cocked his head, used his superior song-eater hearing. “They’re playing Overwatch. It could be hours.”

Myungjun grinned. “Good.” He leaned in and nipped at Minhyuk’s mouth, hands tracing along the collar of his t-shirt and down his spine.

Minhyuk swallowed hard. He would be fine. He wasn’t thirsty. Myungjun was safe. 

And then he pulled back again, opened his eyes. “Did you eat enough today?”

“What?” Myungjun blinked at him, startled.

“I saw you barely ate anything at practice,” Minhyuk said. 

“I’m fine.” Myungjun brushed Minhyuk’s hair away from his face. “I promise.”

Up close, Minhyuk could see just how pale and tired Myungjun was. He reached out, grabbed his phone, unlocked it, and fired up a radio app for some live music. A live human voice was by far the most potent, and a song-eater who drained an entire human by voice alone would be far more powerful than a song-eater who siphoned energy from live musical instruments or a live broadcast of a human voice or instruments. But Minhyuk didn’t need a lot of energy; he just needed enough for the person he loved. He picked a jazz station, turned it down low, and set his phone aside.

“If you’re sure.”

Myungjun wound his arms around Minhyuk’s neck and drew him in close. “I am. Now kiss me. I want to forget my own name.”

Minhyuk took a deep breath - and inhaled some of the soft music coming from his phone. Light danced on his tongue, and he leaned in - and gave the song to Myungjun.

Myungjun moaned into the kiss, mistaking the rush of energy for his own rush of hormones.

_I promise not to hurt you,_ Minhyuk thought, sliding his hands under Myungjun’s shirt. _I’ll do my best to protect you._

He whispered, “I love you too,” and let Myungjun tumble him down to the mattress.

* * *

By the time Sanha had finally stumbled to bed after an hours-long Overwatch tournament with the others, Myungjun and Minhyuk had cleaned up and retreated to their respective beds. 

Minhyuk was the first to wake the next morning, stumbled out of the bedroom and into the empty den. Not even Eunwoo was awake, but given how much he was doing all the time it was insane to expect him to still be their morning call. 

The best way to help protect Myungjun was to guide him into better eating and exercise habits. He was an adult, and he could choose for himself, but Minhyuk knew from experience - from six years training alongside Bin - that having a partner made sticking to things so much easier. Myungjun’s habit of exercising hard in the morning and then only eating one meal for the entire day was all backwards. So Minhyuk was going to make him a healthy breakfast, work out with him, and then stick by him as much as possible throughout the day to make sure he stayed fed and hydrated. They had dance practice later that day anyway, so Myungjun would get all the workout he needed and then some.

Minhyuk was feeling very confident about his plan until he opened the refrigerator and it was empty, save a half-full little bottle of banana milk. Minhyuk sighed and glanced at his watch. He barely had time to run down to the nearby convenience store. 

If there was one thing he was good at, it was making people think he was something other than what he was. The best way to go unnoticed by fans out in public was to go barefaced and with a cap on. If he wore something other than his usual colors - blues and grays - and bundled a bunch of reusable grocery bags with him, most girls wouldn’t look at him twice.

The granny who ran the convenience store knew him well, since he usually went there to buy ingredients when he had the urge to cook. She was from Namhae, and he had endeared himself to her - and further avoided fan detection - by playing up his Jinju accent. He washed his face, brushed his teeth, pulled on clean clothes, gathered up his shopping bags, and left the dorm.

“Good morning, Granny!” Minhyuk called out, bowing as he passed the cash register.

“Good morning, Minhyuk-ah. Cooking for your brothers again?”

“Yes, we have to start the day right.” Minhyuk offered her a smile, and then he made a quick circuit of the store, grabbing packets of ramyeun, vegetables, meat, a container of kimchi, and some fixings like seaweed that he could turn into tasty side dishes. He also grabbed a container of protein powder, and he carried them up the counter. He bagged his purchases himself as Granny rang him up, and he paid with his phone.

“You look so happy these days,” Granny said, and she reached out, ruffled his hair.

Minhyuk smiled at her. He really missed his own grandma. “We’re doing exciting things at work.”

“Oh really? I’d have thought you have a new girlfriend.” Granny winked at him.

Minhyuk shook his head vigorously. “Never, Granny. We’re not allowed to have girlfriends.”

Granny frowned at him over the top of her glasses. “What kind of place do you work at, where you’re not allowed to have a girlfriend? If you don’t start dating soon, you’ll be alone when you’re my age, and no one deserves that.”

“Ah - I’m very happy how I am, Granny. I have to get back to my brothers now.” Minhyuk had never tried to promote his team to her as a member, though he had told her about the team and encouraged her to check out their music, introduce her grandchildren to it. She was such a nice woman, and he was afraid that if he explained who he really was and that the team’s dorm was nearby, she might innocently tell some fans, and they’d have to move.

“Have a good day, Minhyuk-ah.”

“You too, Granny!” Minhyuk gathered up all his purchases, and he hurried back to the dorm.

He was deep in his cooking mien - apron on, pans sizzling on the stove, slicing kimchi - when hands on his hips startled him.

He glanced over his shoulder - and saw a beautifully sleep-rumpled Myungjun standing behind him.

“You were gone when I woke up.” Myungjun rested his chin on Minhyuk’s shoulder, sliding close, and his voice rumbled against Minhyuk’s back.

Minhyuk couldn’t help but shiver. Myungjun’s voice was always beautiful, even when he was just speaking. “I’m making us a nice breakfast.”

Myungjun made an adorable little sound of protest. “But I have to work out first.”

“Myungjunnie,” Minhyuk said, “it’s better if you have a high-carb, high-protein meal and get hydrated, then work out. Your body’s metabolism will increase if it’s well-fueled before a workout. I have some protein powder for after we work out.”

“What? But -”

“But trust me. This is the healthy way to diet and exercise, all right?”

Myungjun pouted prettily. Minhyuk wanted to kiss him, but the others could wake up at any moment.

“You sound like Binnie.”

“Bin-hyung knows his fitness.” Minhyuk turned to face Myungjun. He reached up, framed Myungjun’s face in his hands. “I know you want to look your best for the fans for the next comeback. What matters to the fans is that you’re healthy and that you’re _there,_ all right? It was difficult for everyone when Bin couldn’t do the last comeback with us. Besides, you’re always beautiful to me, no matter what.”

Myungjun avoided his gaze. “It’s easy for you, to stay slender and strong -”

“It’s not easy. It takes work. Look how much work Bin puts in. But - it will be easier if we do this together, right? I’ll help you.” Minhyuk tried to catch Myungjun’s eye.

Myungjun still looked hesitant.

“Myungjunnie,” Minhyuk said again, pleading a little. “Come on. You helped me so much with my singing, and you’re always taking care of me. Let me do this for you.”

Finally Myungjun relented. “All right.”

Minhyuk grinned at him. “Thank you.”

“I’ll go wash up.” Myungjun stepped back, and Minhyuk immediately missed his warmth.

“Breakfast will be ready soon.”

Half an hour later, Myungjun reappeared in workout clothes, face washed and hair combed, and they sat at the table in the den, sharing breakfast.

Eunwoo was the next to emerge from his room. He had a single room to accommodate his divergent schedule so he wouldn’t wake his teammates with his random comings and goings. 

“What’s the occasion?” he asked, easing himself down beside Myungjun at the table.

Minhyuk handed him a pair of chopsticks and a clean plate.

“We’re eating a healthy meal before we work out,” Minhyuk said. “We’ll drink some water, then walk to the company, do our workout there, and come home.”

Eunwoo arched an eyebrow at Myungjun. “You’re working out?”

“Minhyuk is helping me with my fitness, to say thank you for my helping him with his singing,” Myungjun said.

“Fair enough.”

“What’s on your schedule today?” Minhyuk asked.

“A meeting with the producers of the next variety show.” Eunwoo munched on some kimchi fried rice. “This is good.”

“Thank you. Eat more.” Minhyuk put a piece of pork on Eunwoo’s plate.

“You two went to bed early last night. We could have used one of you to put Sanha in his place,” Eunwoo said.

“I knew we should try to get a good night’s sleep to start on our diet and exercise program today,” Minhyuk said. He was a good liar when he needed to be, which was often, but he didn’t like constantly lying.

Myungjun caught his eye, raised his eyebrows, impressed.

Minhyuk shrugged one shoulder and kept on eating.

By the time Myungjun and Minhyuk finished eating, Sanha stumbled out of bed. He was quick to claim Minhyuk’s spot and eat the leftovers - and promise to do the rest of the dishes.

Minhyuk and Myungjun set off for the company together, sipping from their water bottles and keeping a brisk but manageable pace.

“You’re really going to make me do this,” Myungjun said.

Minhyuk nodded.

They walked side by side, hands brushing, but even though they were anonymous in their track suits and caps and dust masks, they didn’t dare hold hands.

“I admit, I complained a lot when you had me do those weird purring drills,” Minhyuk said. “But I also admit it paid off in the end with my improved singing. So - consider these your purring drills.”

Myungjun made a purring sound.

Heads turned, and for a moment Minhyuk was embarrassed, but then he laughed.

“Fine,” Myungjun said. “These are my purring drills.”

At the company, Minhyuk did his best to keep them both focused. They stretched and warmed up, they did calisthenics, they did weights, and at the end, they ran on the treadmills.

After an hour and a half, Myungjun collapsed on the floor of the practice room, breathing hard.

“No,” Minhyuk said. “We have to cool down. Come on.” He took a long pull from his water bottle, and then he turned on his phone.

To that radio app, where soft instrumental music was playing.

Myungjun groaned and hauled himself to his feet, and he followed Minyhuk through cooldown exercises. He didn’t notice how the music coming from Minhyuk’s phone wavered.

When they were officially done with their workout, Myungjun flopped back down to the floor. Minhyuk drained his water bottle, and then he said,

“Hyung, come with me, fill your water bottle so we can mix our protein drinks.”

Myungjun pouted prettily. “I’m tired. Fill it for me?”

Minhyuk cast him a _look,_ and Myungjun’s eyes widened. He managed to get back on his feet, and together they headed for the water fountain on the other side of the room - the side that wasn’t visible from the main door.

“You did good today,” Minhyuk said, and he reeled Myungjun in close. Energy buzzed under his skin, post-workout adrenaline, the thrill of having Myungjun in his arms, and a song.

“You’re sweaty,” Myungjun protested, but when Minhyuk leaned in to kiss him, he kissed back.

Minhyuk closed his eyes and let the golden energy dance between them.

Myungjun’s phone’s ridiculous ringtone - ducks quacking - startled them both so badly that they knocked foreheads. Minhyuk swore and saw stars. He reached out blindly, tried to steady Myungjun, but Myungjun was already stumbling back onto the main floor, clutching his head, one eye screwed shut against the pain.

He managed to fumble his phone unlocked. “Hello?”

“Where are you?” Jinwoo demanded on speaker.

“At the practice room working out. Didn’t Eunwoo and Sanha tell you?” Myungjun asked.

“Where’s Minhyuk?” 

“With me,” Myungjun said slowly.

Minhyuk hurried to his side. Had they been found out?

“Come home now.”

“Hyung, what’s wrong?” Minhyuk asked.

“There was a song-eater attack.”


	2. Chapter 2

A song-eater attack was a nightmare come true.

Minhyuk’s heart crawled into his throat.

Myungjun’s expression went icily blank. “Who?”

“No one on our team or from our company, but the rumors are already flying. Get home and get washed up. We need to get on Vlive and - I’ll explain when you get here. Hurry.”

“We’ll be right there,” Myungjun said.

Dread curled low in Minhyuk’s gut like a ball of lead. Ever since he’d learned that Myungjun’s older sister had been killed by a song-eater, that Myungjun’s goal in becoming an idol was to draw out her killer and avenge her, he’d been even more afraid of being found out. He’d always thought it was stupid, how people on dramas said they cared more about losing the person they loved than losing their own life. If anyone found out Minhyuk was a song-eater, he was dead, and possibly his mother and grandmother and countless others of his kind with him. If Myungjun knew Minhyuk was a song-eater, everything would be over. Their relationship. The team. And that was a thousand times worse.

The bus ride back to the apartment was tense, silent. Myungjun was probably thinking of his sister - and maybe even thinking that he was one step closer to finding her killer. He was probably barely paying attention to Minhyuk, and he’d mistake Minhyuk’s silence as fear of a similar attack happening to their team. Idols were supposed to be terrified of two things: scandals, and song-eaters.

Jinwoo met them at the door and bundled them inside. Manager Ryu was on speakerphone to explain the situation. Boys from three different teams had been attacked in broad daylight in three separate locations. Songbirds had been quick on the scene and saved the boys from certain death, but the song-eaters had escaped. All three victims were in the intensive care unit, and they were expected to survive, but none of them would ever sing again, might never speak again. Groups were keeping it quiet till the boys were awake and decided what they wanted to announce. Companies were keeping quiet. But fans were speculating, and fear was spreading, not just among fans but also in the general public.

As idols, Minhyuk and his team should lead by example and try to help the public stay calm. No one knew whether the attacks had been by a single song-eater, by several song-eaters at coincidentally the same time, by a gang of song-eaters, or song-eaters being controlled by humans.

“How could humans do that to other humans?” Bin shook his head, disgusted.

“It’s not like song-eaters can work as a team, is it? They’re basically animals,” Sanha said.

Minhyuk’s hands curled into fists. He’d heard similar comments a thousand times before.

“They could be a pack, like wolves,” Jinwoo suggested.

“What is it you need us to do, Manager-nim?” Eunwoo asked.

“Get cleaned up. Get on Vlive. Sing for your fans. Maybe Sanha can accompany you on his guitar.”

“You want me to sing too?” Jinwoo asked.

“Just a little. Don’t strain your voice, obviously,” Manager said.

Jinwoo nodded.

Myungjun said, “Will you be hiring a Songbird? To protect us.”

Minhyuk’s heart stopped. A Songbird with the team twenty-four seven? He wouldn’t last a day.

It was an open secret, at least as between idols, that the most popular teams had a Songbird assigned to them for protection. Some popular solo artists had Songbirds in their daily staff as well. Minhyuk always steered clear of those Songbirds at broadcast shows and events. 

“It’s not like we can have girls from girl groups hanging around us,” Bin said.

“Upper management is discussing it,” Manager said. “In the meantime, the company will be implementing protocols to protect all our artists, and we’ll be working with senior management at broadcast companies to make sure you’re protected during public appearances as well.”

“Yes, Manager-nim,” Jinwoo said. He told Myungjun and Minhyuk to go shower up, told Sanha to go make sure his guitar was in tune.

Eunwoo went to set up his electric keyboard.

When Minhyuk was showered and dressed and had put on some basic makeup, he headed into the den, where the others had assembled snacks and drinks, as well as their musical instruments. Someone had lit a couple of candles, and also some industrious soul had flung some blankets over the couch to give the scene a bit more color.

“Warm up your voice,” Jinwoo said, and Minhyuk nodded, drew himself up tall, and set to work. 

Warming up properly wasn’t a particularly glamorous affair, and most fans would probably laugh themselves silly if they heard all the buzzing and purring and siren-like scales. But if they planned to sing extensively, being warmed up was important.

Eunwoo was playing scales on the keyboard along with singing them to warm up his hands as well, and Sanha was playing arpeggios on his guitar while he did vocal slides.

Myungjun arrived soon after and set to warming up his voice without being told, while the others cobbled together a simple set list. To start, they’d do an acoustic version of You & Me for the fans, with Sanha on guitar and Jinwoo on his cajon. They’d do solos: Eunwoo the OST number he’d sung for his last drama, Sanha his recent OST number, Minhyuk the song he’d written for the last mini-album, and Bin the fan song from the last mini-album. Eunwoo, Sanha, and Jinwoo would provide accompaniment as they could. Myungjun and Jinwoo would do Bloom, the song they’d written together, as a duet, while Eunwoo and Sanha accompanied them on the piano and guitar. They’d close with an acoustic version of Breathless, because it was a bright, energetic number.

“I’m going to chat with the fans and let them know we’re starting soon,” Eunwoo said, grabbing his phone.

Sanha set up his phone as the recording device, propping it up against a stack of several of Eunwoo’s books. Minhyuk and Bin made sure the snacks and drinks were close at hand. Jinwoo taped the set list to the edge of the table where all of them could see but the fans wouldn’t be able to.

“How long should I tell them?” Eunwoo asked, looking up from his phone.

Jinwoo looked at the others. “Are we ready?”

Sanha swallowed hard, started to nod, shook his head.

Bin reached out, grabbed his hand. “If you need a moment, it’s okay. Take it.”

Eunwoo said, voice solemn, “We’re safe here. Jinwoo and I will protect you. We’ll protect each other.”

Minhyuk had spent his entire life so worried about the day he’d have to fight a Songbird that he’d never considered he might one day have to fight another song-eater. 

Myungjun’s expression was still totally unreadable, like he was carved of stone.

“Hyung,” Jinwoo said quietly. “Are _you_ all right?”

“Don’t worry. I’ll smile for the fans.”

“Tell them ten minutes,” Sanha said. 

Minhyuk knelt beside him and massaged his shoulders. “We’re safe here in the dorm. And our company will take care of us.”

“Taekyung and Woohyun and Jaeseon’s companies were supposed to be taking care of them too.” Sanha’s voice wobbled.

“Tell them twenty minutes,” Jinwoo said, and Eunwoo nodded.

Minhyuk kept rubbing Sanha’s shoulders. Bin plied him with some honey tea.

“All right. We have twenty minutes to get it together,” Eunwoo said. “We’re professionals. This is a performance. Let’s nail it.”

The others, including Sanha, nodded.

Minhyuk took deep breaths, trying to calm his racing heart.

They fiddled with the set list some more, fetched some extra drinks, and then it was time.

Jinwoo turned on the camera, because he was the leader. They chatted a bit, commenting how this was the first time in a while the six of them had managed to do a broadcast together, what with everyone’s solomprojects. Eunwoo kept an eye on the numbers as viewers joined the stream, and once the number was pretty large - three thousand viewers - they gathered around, offered their team greeting, and the actual broadcast was underway.

As casual as some of these streams could be - the members eating lunch or wandering around the park or hanging out at the neighborhood playground on the swings - every one of them was a performance, and this was no different. No one mentioned the song-eater attacks; they didn’t mention any other teams at all. They talked about their individual pursuits this year. Sanha and Bin were doing solo modeling, and Eunwoo was modeling more. Jinwoo was going to be on a variety show with Myungjun, who was also getting ready to release another OST number for a new drama. Minhyuk tried not to feel guilty that he didn’t have more solo work, but he knew he was the quietest, and he didn’t have Sanha’s super tall, model-slender build, and he wasn’t a great actor, so he just mentioned that he was working on some choreography (which he was; he even offered a sly wink, because the choreo he was working on was for the next comeback). 

And then Sanha picked up his guitar, and Eunwoo introduced their little acoustic concert, and they began.

It was a long-running joke in the fandom, that Minhyuk never smiled. He had resting killer face, some of the international fans said. Others compared him to Shownu-sunbae, who was the main dancer on his team and also not very good at aegyo, who was nicknamed Robot and Bot-Shownu because of his unchanging facial expression. The truth was, Minhyuk often didn’t smile during slower performances like this, because as a rapper, he had fewer vocal parts to contribute, and if he wasn’t dancing, he’d learned to hold still and keep his expression blank and his gaze down so as not to distract the audience from his teammates when they were in the spotlight.

The truth was, during performances without dancing, Minhyuk had to focus on maintaining his control so he didn’t accidentally start to drink the music, if not the others’ singing then the background music. Pre-recorded music tasted good, but it was like a diet soda - it offered no actual nutritional value, and when Minhyuk was alone, he could drink songs off of his phone to his heart’s content. Drinking songs was as easy and instinctive as breathing, and when Minhyuk didn’t have dancing to focus on as part of the performance, he had to focus on maintaining the illusion that he was a regular human.

And that took more effort than anyone knew.

So his expression, when he wasn’t performing, was intensely blank.

But it was fine if fans thought it was a joke.

Minhyuk’s teammates called him a mama’s boy, because he was so close to his mother, who’d pushed him to become an idol from a young age. He knew some of the things he told them about his childhood made it seem like his mother was a crazy stage mom. They would never understand that his mother had seen that the best way for him to be safe was to be where no one would ever, ever look for a song-eater.

So here he was, in an idol group, sitting with his teammates while they broadcast for their fans from their dorm apartment, and maintaining his focus till it was his turn to sing.

They were comforting their fans while rumors about the song-eater attacks on other idols abounded. They were comforting each other, because idols were terrified of song-eaters.

Except Myungjun, who hated them.

Minhyuk’s fans and teammates were terrified of _him._

He sat between Bin and Sanha, and he listened while the others sang, and he kept a straight face, and when it was his turn to sing, he managed to smile.

By the time their surprise acoustic concert was finished, they’d amassed over a hundred thousand viewers and thirty million hearts, so they answered a few fan comments, and then they offered a team farewell, and Jinwoo shut off Sanha’s phone.

As soon as he confirmed they were no longer recording, Minhyuk jumped to his feet.

“Are you all right?” Bin asked.

“I have to go to the bathroom. I’ve had to go for the last fifteen minutes but the rest of you wouldn’t stop talking,” Minhyuk said.

Sanha frowned at him. “You were quiet today. Are you sure you’re all right?”

“I just don’t have as much to say because I’m not doing as much as the rest of you,” he said.

Jinwoo reached out, put a hand on his arm. “You work just as hard as the rest of us.”

“I’m not feeling bad about myself or anything, but I just don’t have as much to say. I’m fine.” Minhyuk managed another smile. “Now really, I have to go.”

In the bathroom, he ran some water in the sink in case anyone happened to be passing by, and he splashed some water on his face to boot. Then he checked his phone.

He’d missed a series of text messages from his mother, who was very worried about everything that was going on. Would the team be assigned a Songbird?

Minhyuk messaged her back, assured her he was fine, and there hadn’t been any confirmation from the company about a Songbird being hired.

 _Be careful, Minhyukie,_ his mother warned him.

_I always am._

_Be more careful,_ she wrote back. _Watch for silver._

 _I will._

Songbirds, his mother had drilled into him over and over again, carried their weapons on them at all times, disguised as silver jewelry. Every girl who wore silver jewelry was a potential Songbird.

Minhyuk scrubbed the makeup off his face, then headed back out to join the others.

“What’s the plan now?” he asked.

“Video game binge,” Jinwoo said.

Minhyuk raised his eyebrows, because they were supposed to have dance practice, but then he looked over at Bin and Sanha, who were already hooking Sanha’s laptop up to the television and sorting out controller wires. Sanha was more fragile than fans realized, as was Bin.

“All right,” Minhyuk said. “Want me to go get some gaming snacks?”

“Don’t go alone,” Eunwoo said.

Myungjun slung an arm around Minhyuk’s shoulders. “I’ll go with you.” He caught Minhyuk’s eye, and Minhyuk nodded.

They grabbed the recyclable shopping bags, and they went to put on their shoes.

“I know you’re a better martial artist than me,” Myungjun said, “but I can protect you, I promise.”

“I’ll protect you too,” Minhyuk said fervently. If the choice was between Myungjun and another song-eater, it was no choice at all. 

Myungjun smiled and reached up, toyed with the silver chain at his throat.

Minhyuk’s heart skipped a beat. Myungjun hadn’t been wearing that earlier. Was it a Songbird weapon? How could Myungjun, who wasn’t a Songbird, wield it?

As they walked down to the convenience store that Minhyuk had been at mere hours before, Minhyuk wondered.

If boys could be song-eaters, could boys also be Songbirds? Was Myungjun an actual Songbird? He hadn’t started idol training till he was finished with high school. He’d never said it outright, but the rest of the team understood that his parents hadn’t approved of his decision to become an idol. But that could have been a lie, because Songbirds were just as secretive about their identities as song-eaters.

Minhyuk looked at Myungjun and wondered if they would ever have to choose between their own lives and each other’s.

* * *

The night before a big schedule day, the six of them played rock-paper-scissors to decide who had to go to the shop and get his makeup and hair done when. Whoever went first had to get up the earliest - but then he was finished and could (carefully) nap till all the others were done. Whoever went last got to sleep in the longest, so much effort was made to be eliminated first, and then after that to stay in as long as possible.

Minhyuk managed to get eliminated first, so he retreated to the couch and watched the rest of them playing. He and Myungjun had agreed to do their best to be either the first two or last two so they could have some time alone together, and sure enough, Myungjun was the next one eliminated, so he plopped down on the couch beside Minhyuk and snuggled close, rested his head on Minyuk’s shoulder. Minhyuk reached up and petted his hair absently. For now, Myungjun’s hair was soft, but once they started shooting promos and the music video for the next comeback, they’d have radical hair color changes.

At the end of it all, Jinwoo had scored the biggest victory, would get to sleep in the longest tomorrow. He and Bin shuffled off to their own room, and Eunwoo headed for his. Sanha stood beside the couch for a moment, staring down at Myungjun and Minhyuk. Then he reached out and jammed his hand between Minhyuk and Myungjun.

“What are you doing? Minhyuk and I aren’t ticklish,” Myungjun protested, but then Sanha was wriggling between them.

Myungjun relented, because Sanha had been his first friend as a trainee, and they shared a bond Minhyuk couldn’t hope to replicate, and he had no desire to try. Soon Sanha was tucked up against Minhyuk with his head on Minhyuk’s shoulder, but he had his arm around Myungjun, who snuggled close obligingly.

“Wanna sleep together tonight?” Sanha asked. “We could push mine and Myungjun’s beds together.”

Minhyuk, who slept in the bunk above Sanha’s, nodded. “Sure.” It would be a tight fit, three of them in two beds, but Sanha wasn’t the only one who was still tense.

The three idols who’d been attacked by song-eaters were still in intensive care. One was still comatose. The other two were awake, but neither of them had spoken yet. All three of their companies had issued statements, but they were keeping the details vague. Everyone else in the industry was on hyperalert. Would girls be targeted next? Would it be more boys? The song-eaters hadn’t been caught, though reports were that a squad of Songbirds had been dispatched to track them down.

Minhyuk had never seen a song-eater execution broadcast on television, but he’d grown up hearing the stories of how in times past song-eaters were publicly executed and their heads left on display till the birds picked them clean.

“We should sleep. We have to get up early tomorrow.” Myungjun rose, offered Sanha a hand.

Sanha accepted, then offered Minhyuk a hand and pulled him to his feet. The three of them brushed their teeth. While Minhyuk went through his nightly skincare routine, Sanha and Myungjun rearranged the beds. Then it was Myungjun’s turn in the bathroom they shared, so Sanha and Minhyuk grabbed the blankets and pillows off of Minhyuk’s bunk to make sure all of them would stay warm even if one of them tried to steal the blankets in their sleep. 

Once it was Sanha’s turn to go take care of his skin, Myungjun and Minhyuk sat on the edge of the bed together.

“I’d kiss you, but that animal mask is a bit creepy,” Myungjun said.

Minhyuk pouted at him, and he laughed softly.

“You take good care of your skin so diligently. It’s admirable. Your mother taught you well. I should send her a gift -”

“Be nice. My mother’s diligence regarding my beauty is just her being supportive,” Minhyuk protested.

Myungjun leaned in and pressed a kiss to Minhyuk’s hair. “Your mother gave you much of your beauty, and for that I am grateful.”

“I thought you liked me for my hard work and personality,” Minhyuk said.

“Your pretty face and your hard body are a bonus.” Myungjun waggled his eyebrows, and it was Minhyuk’s turn to laugh.

He heard Sanha’s returning footsteps moments before Sanha opened the door, and he smoothed out his expression before Sanha could see them.

Myungjun didn’t immediately jerk away from Minhyuk, because there was no reason for them not to be close. 

“I want the middle,” Sanha said.

Myungjun nodded, so he lay down on one side, and Sanha crawled in beside him.

“It’s okay if you’re scared,” Myungjun said, slinging an arm around Sanha’s waist.

Minhyuk turned off the light, then snuggled up on the other side of Sanha.

“You don’t seem scared,” Sanha murmured. “Shouldn’t you be the most scared? You’re our main vocalist.”

“I’ve been scared of song-eaters all my life. I don’t think I can get any more scared at this point.”

Minhyuk closed his eyes and swallowed hard. He said, “Myungjun and I are here. Sleep, Sanha.”

Sanha sighed and shifted.

Myungjun fell asleep first, his breathing deepening and evening out.

Sanha shifted some more. He shifted again, dislodging the blankets covering Minhyuk and letting in a burst of cold air.

“You all right?” Minhyuk whispered.

Sanha said nothing, just snuggled closer.

“Can’t sleep?”

Sanha nodded against Minhyuk’s arm.

“Want me to count sheep for you?”

Sanha nodded again.

Minhyuk ducked his head so he could whisper in Sanha’s ear, and he began to count.

Somewhere around a hundred and ten, Sanha fell asleep.

Minhyuk lay awake in the darkness listening to both of his teammates breathing. How long would he be allowed to have them in his life like this?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set list:
> 
> [You & Me](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=skKy_nB5B50) ASTRO
> 
> [Please Remember](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YWHfHY9ZlCU) \- Cha Eunwoo (Rookie Historian Goo Hae Ryeung OST)
> 
> [Break](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jVUhaGojoAs) Yoon Sanha (낀대OST)
> 
> [When the Wind Blows](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PAf1LVWQQlE) \- ASTRO (but this is the guide version Rocky sang since he wrote it; check out the guide version on [Soundcloud](https://soundcloud.com/rockycl0ud/when-the-wind-blows-guide-ver-by-rocky))
> 
> [You're My World](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mH74jq7XaXc) \- ASTRO (this is a live version from the Knock comeback promotions but whatever)
> 
> [Bloom](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AMaLZbQicms) \- ASTRO (because MJ and Jinjin as composers are kings)
> 
> [Breathless - ASTRO (acoustic, live with Sanha on guitar)](https://youtu.be/zVs8EtqBJe4)


	3. Chapter 3

The next morning, Minhyuk eased himself out of the collective tangle of blankets and limbs and tip-toed to the door. He washed his face, brushed his teeth, dressed in comfortable clothes, and grabbed a triangle kimbap out of the refrigerator before he headed for the shop.

It was already bustling with other idols and celebrities who were getting made up and styled for the day, so Minhyuk bowed to his sunbaes and sat down in one of the waiting room chairs and checked the news on his phone till his stylist called him back to her chair.

“Astro?”

He looked up from a review of another team’s newest mini-album, surprised by the unfamiliar voice.

A woman he’d never seen before stood by the entrance to the salon, clipboard in hand.

Minhyuk rose, bowed. “Good morning, seonsaengnim. I’m Park Minhyuk, from Astro. Is Solah-noona all right?”

“She’s fine,” the woman said, her tone brusque. “All staff who cannot sing have been reassigned to non-singers. This way, please.”

For a second, Minhyuk was terribly confused, because Solah had been their stylist since their pre-debut days, knew their skin and style perfectly. Why did it matter whether she could sing? And then he realized. If she couldn’t sing, there was a chance she was a song-eater. There was no way to prove someone was a song-eater unless they were caught in the act of drinking music, so the shop couldn’t fire her, but -

“Sit here, please,” the woman said.

Minhyuk seated himself carefully in the salon chair. “Yes, seonsaengnim.”

The woman didn’t offer her name. She eyed him. “Do you need me to prove I can sing?”

“Ah - no, seonsaengnim. It’s fine. Just tell me what you need me to do.”

“Close your eyes, let me get a sense of your facial structure.”

Minhyuk obeyed. The entire time she worked on him, she said little, was professional but impersonal. Was the shop short-handed, because Solah and others like her who couldn’t sing weren’t working? Usually Solah chatted with him, told him what she thought about the team’s music videos or live performances that she made them up for. She liked to critique her own work, she said, so of course she watched them perform. She also asked about their friends and families and chatted about her own.

Minhyuk tried to focus on his breathing so he could relax, but beneath the strange woman’s hands he was tense. The rest of the shop was unusually quiet, too. There wasn’t as much chatter. How much of the staff had been reassigned? Had anyone actually been fired? 

When the woman finished, Minhyuk thanked her.

“Is someone else from your team here?” She reached for her clipboard.

“Myungjun-hyung should be.”

“All right. Move over into that chair there and someone will be by to do your hair.”

Minhyuk nodded and bowed and transferred himself to the next chair over. Thankfully, Jieun, their usual hair stylist, was still working with them, and she greeted him warmly, asked how he was doing.

He let her know he was doing all right, that he’d left his hair unwashed like he was supposed to so she could style it more easily, and she patted his shoulder, pleased, before she set to work.

Myungjun didn’t look nearly as wrong-footed as Minhyuk had felt when the strange make-up artist led him back to her salon chair. He glanced at Minhyuk and smiled briefly, but then his expression went blank, and he said nothing as the other woman worked on him.

Minhyuk closed his eyes and let himself doze while Jieun worked, though he turned his head this way and that as she requested. He’d learned how to fall asleep even when the hair dryer was going, but today he couldn’t, because he had to stay awake till Myungjun was done getting styled, and then they could go doze together in the waiting room till all the others were finished getting made up for the day.

“All done,” Jieun said, and Minhyuk opened his eyes.

Even after so many years as a trainee and a working idol - as trainees they’d had to be made up for live and recorded appearances - Minhyuk was still startled by the face he saw in the mirror after he was done being made up for the day. When he thought of himself and what he looked like, it was never what he saw in the mirror in this moment. The person looking back at him was Rocky. Rocky was who smiled at the cameras, who performed onstage. He was Minhyuk.

But now he was ready to be Rocky when he had to be, to own the stage as soon as he stepped on it, to appear in front of cameras and audiences.

“Thank you, noona.” He rose and bowed to Jieun, who smiled fondly at him.

“You can stay and talk to Myungjun-ah while I work on him,” Jieun said, because of course Myungjun’s makeup was done just in time to make the switch.

“All right.” Minhyuk found a stool to sit on while Myungjun greeted Jieun and settled into her chair.

“Thanks for warming it up for me,” Myungjun said, casting Minhyuk a sunny smile.

“Only for you,” Minhyuk said.

“What’s new in the world today?” Myungjun asked.

The strange makeup artist was leading a still-sleepy Sanha over to her workstation.

Minhyuk dug his phone out of his pocket. “So many things. What would you like to ask the internet today?”

Myungjun hummed thoughtfully. “How are our colleagues doing? Healthwise.”

He was asking after the three victims of the song-eater attack.

Minhyuk winced internally but set to searching for the latest news. “Ah - Jaeseon-sunbae has woken up. Not much beyond that, though.”

“That’s good. And the search for the attackers?”

Of course Myungjun was curious about anything involving song-eaters and Songbirds. Every time they talked about the subject, Minhyuk felt like he was digging himself into a deeper hole by lying and not telling them what he was. But he couldn’t. He didn’t dare. He wouldn’t be endangering only himself if he did.

“No news,” Minhyuk said. “At least, nothing beyond what’s already been reported.”

“All right. Hmmm...get on the fan cafe. What are the fans saying about today’s live stage?”

That would be more interesting to see. Minhyuk poked around on his phone. He read some of the comments aloud, the cute positive ones, mostly the ones about how excited fans were to see their faces and hear their vocals. He made a point of reading comments about Myungjun specifically, just to make him smile.

“Yah,” Sanha called out from the makeup chair. “Stop buttering him up.”

Minhyuk glanced over his shoulder. “Want me to read comments about you?”

“Yes,” Sanha said. “Be fair now.”

“You should read comments about you,” Myungjun said to Minhyuk.

“Maybe.” Minhyuk poked through the comments. “What’s this?”

“What’s what?” Myungjun asked.

“The fans keep talking about proof shots, and there are references to Twitter. Did someone else ask for proof shots of meals or something?” Minhyuk frowned and peered at the hashtag the fans were using. _Proof of life._ What did it mean? It was common to ask for proof shots, if the others asked about whether fans had eaten dinner that night, and the fans could respond, post pictures of themselves eating dinner or maybe just their meals.

“Not me,” Sanha said.

“Me neither,” Myungjun added.

Minhyuk opened up Twitter on his phone and searched for hashtag. It wasn’t just their fans using it. Fans for multiple teams were posting videos of themselves singing.

“Well?” Myungjun asked.

Minhyuk felt something tighten in his chest. “They’re fan videos, singing our songs - probably their favorites? It’s not all title tracks.”

“But they’re tagged as proof shots?” Sanha asked.

Myungjun said, “Proof they can sing.”

That they weren’t song-eaters. Minhyuk scrolled through the tags, at the smiling girls and boys who were singing and flashing heart signs at their cameras, and he wondered who among them was like him, who was singing along and hiding who they were, who was exhausted and sickened by the constant fear.

It took Sanha a moment to catch on. “Ah.”

Minhyuk shut off his phone and shoved it into his pocket, and not a moment too soon, because Jieun patted Myungjun on the shoulder and said he was all done, and then it was Sanha’s turn to get his hair done, and Bin was plopping himself down in the makeup chair.

Myungjun and Minhyuk retreated to the waiting room, where some of their sunbaes and hoobaes were waiting to get ready for the day. They greeted each other quietly, politely, and then Myungjun and Minhyuk found a little loveseat where they could sit together. They curled up close, and Minhyuk let Myungjun rest against him, and they closed their eyes. No one would disturb them. It was just them in their own little world despite the chaos around them. Minhyuk wrapped an arm around Myungjun, offering him warmth. He would do everything he could to protect Myungjun and his teammates from whatever threat came their way.

He started to drift off, lulled by Myungjun’s warmth and the soft sound of his breathing, when the air around him changed. Everyone went silent. Conversations halted. Work halted.

Minhyuk opened his eyes.

Yoona, the woman people called _goddess,_ who’d started off as _the nation’s fairy_ and become _the nation’s first love_ and was now _the nation’s it girl,_ stood in the doorway. She hadn’t been made up for the day yet, but she looked stunning, all wide eyes and silky dark hair and sweet smile. 

Minhyuk wasn’t immune to a beautiful woman. He blinked rapidly, felt his pulse jump. All the other boys and men around him were staring as well. And then Minhyuk saw, standing just behind her, a woman in a sleek black outfit, a black sweater and black slacks and sensible shoes. She wore silver chains at her wrists and throat. She was lean, muscular. She wore no makeup and no employee ID.

She was a Songbird.

Icy fear prickled in Minhyuk’s veins. His first instinct was to lower his gaze so she wouldn’t look at him, but that would make it obvious he knew what she was and he was trying to avoid her. Did the others in the room know what she was, or were they busy staring at Yoona?

And then Eunwoo said, in his soft, polite voice, “Pardon me.”

The Songbird shifted to one side.

Yoona turned, and her face lit up. “Eunwoo-ya! What a surprise, seeing you here. How have you been?”

Eunwoo bowed. “Hello, sunbae. I have been well. How are you?”

All around the room, mouths dropped open. Since when was Yoona close enough to Eunwoo to speak to him informally?

She laughed, the sound light and musical. “I know we haven’t seen each other in a long time, but remember, you can call me noona.”

“Apologies, noona.” Eunwoo bowed again.

Whispers rose around the room.

Yoona tossed her head, showing off her slender, pale neck. “I am doing well, though. How is Eunsong-unnie?”

Minhyuk saw the way Eunwoo tensed, glanced at the Songbird beside Yoona. Could Eunwoo tell she was a Songbird?

Eunwoo said, “My mother is well, thank you. I shall tell her you asked after her.”

More whispers. Yoona knew Eunwoo’s mother? Were Eunwoo and Yoona family friends?

Then Yoona arched an eyebrow. “You’ll be protecting your team, then? I can technically protect myself, but Bomi is here as a demonstration of concern from my company.” She nodded at the Songbird, whose expression remained blank.

If Eunwoo’s shoulders went any tighter they’d snap. “I am sure our company will take whatever means necessary to protect me and the rest of my team. Thank you for your concern, noona.”

A woman called out, “Astro?”

It was the stranger makeup artist.

Eunwoo turned to her. “I am here.” He bowed at Yoona. “It was good to see you again. I must prepare for my schedule today.”

And then he swept away. He didn’t seem to notice Minhyuk or Myungjun - or Sanha, who had just come trotting out of the back, humming happily to himself as he tapped at a game on his phone, oblivious to the strange encounter that had just taken place.

He scanned the room, spotted Minhyuk and Myungjun, and wriggled himself onto the loveseat beside them. Myungjun stirred and grumbled, but when he saw who it was, he made space.

“What game are you playing?” Myungjun asked, his voice deeper with drowsiness. It washed over Minhyuk’s skin like dappled afternoon sunlight, and he wanted to sink into it, but Yoona and her Songbird Bomi were still in the waiting room, Yoona perched in an armchair and leafing through a magazine while Bomi stood over her.

“You don’t have to hover so much,” Yoona said.

Sanha finally noticed her. “Daebak.”

“Most of the people here are idols,” Yoona continued. “They can all sing. And even if they can’t sing, they’re boys.”

Bomi remained unmoved.

Minhyuk swallowed hard and did his best to ignore her. He craned his neck to peer over Myungjun’s shoulder at Sanha’s phone. “Is the game fun?”

Before Sanha could answer, a boy from another team came to crouch beside the loveseat.

“Hey, how does Eunwoo-ssi know Yoona?” he asked.

Sanha’s eyes went wide. “Eunwoo-hyung knows Yoona?”

“This is news to me,” Minhyuk said. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen them talk to each other before. Hyung?” He nudged Myungjun.

“I don’t know anything either,” Myungjun said. He was eyeing Bomi speculatively. “I guess they’re connected through Eunwoo’s mother. Maybe they’re old family friends.”

It was Bin who said, “I’ve seen Yoona talk to Eunwoo backstage at a broadcast show before.”

“Alone?” Myungjun asked, sitting up straighter.

“I was there,” Bin said mildly. 

“Does Jinwoo know about this?” Myungjun kept his voice low.

The boy from the other team was listening closely, wide-eyed.

“I don’t know.” Bin shrugged. “But it really wasn’t a big deal.”

Minhyuk couldn’t take his eyes off of Bomi, but he wanted to look away. He wanted to lock himself in a bathroom and hyperventilate while he texted his mother, because he’d never knowingly been so close to an actual Songbird before. Sure, he’d glimpsed them at broadcast shows and festivals, but -

“Are you all right?” Sanha asked.

Minhyuk pushed himself to his feet. “I need some air.”

“I’ll come with you.” Bin wrinkled his nose - his bloodhound-sensitive nose. “All this hairspray and hair perfume is killing me.”

They headed for the private balcony together, one where they could get some fresh air and sunshine but where they were less likely to be caught on camera unawares by opportunistic passersby with smartphones or professional photographers. Minhyuk would have preferred to be alone so he could call his mother, but -

He leaned back on the railing, tipped his head back, drank in the sunlight, took a few deep breaths. He had to keep himself calm. Bomi wouldn’t be the last Songbird he was in close quarters with.

“You’ve heard the rumor, that some girls in girl groups are Songbirds, right?”

Minhyuk nodded slowly.

“I think Yoona’s a Songbird. The way she was talking to Eunwoo that night - I guess Songbirds run in families? His mother must be a famous Songbird or some kind of Songbird instructor, maybe.”

Something like dread started to unfurl in Minhyuk’s gut. “Well, Songbirds are girls.”

“Maybe they don’t have to be,” Bin said. “I think Eunwoo’s a Songbird. If not an actual one, maybe he has Songbird training. Like self-defense especially for singers. From his mother.”

Minhyuk knew song-eaters didn’t have to be girls. There was no reason Songbirds had to be girls, except for some kind of tradition he didn’t understand. And then he thought of the silver necklace Eunwoo always wore, and that one silver bracelet, and that silver ring.

Had he been living with a Songbird all this time and not even known it?

Sure, his teammates had been living with him, a song-eater, and were totally oblivious, but - Minhyuk had never killed anyone, didn’t even want to. Even if Eunwoo had never killed anyone, if he was a trained Songbird -

Minhyuk sucked in a shaky breath. “Do you think he’d tell us even if he was a Songbird?”

“I haven’t been brave enough to ask,” Bin said softly.

There was a weight to his words that Minhyuk couldn’t quite parse. Even though he and Bin had known each other the longest, they’d grown apart over the years, had walls and secrets spring up between them. Minhyuk had always had too many secrets of his own, and he’d always been afraid to try to speak to Bin about Bin’s secrets lest he have to give up some of his own, and his secrets could cost him his life.

Before Minhyuk could fall into a downward spiral in his own thoughts, Sanha arrived, told them Jinwoo was finished being made up for the day, and it was time for them to go.

* * *

The broadcast performance went well, though Minhyuk wasn’t sure how, because by the time he got back to the dorm, he was a wreck, his nerves totally shot. The atmosphere in the van on the way to the broadcast station had been quiet, tense. Apparently Yoona had been friendly and familiar with Eunwoo in Jinwoo’s presence, and Jinwoo had been understandably wary. At the broadcast station, everyone they passed was tense - the staff, the other idols and artists and their staff. Minhyuk was pretty sure he wasn’t the only one who noticed that most of the staff at the station that day was male, and that more than one group had black-clad, serious-faced women in their entourages, women who didn’t carry stage outfits or makeup cases.

Minhyuk was probably the only one who felt far less safe with the changes in staff and security. Everyone was professional, tried to be calm and friendly, but making small talk with strangers was too much, and the best Minhyuk could manage was to find a semi-private space to warm up his voice before he and his teammates took the stage. Their anniversary song for their fans was a ballad, had no choreography, so he didn’t need to stretch out or worry about keeping an eye on the camera while he danced. He just needed to sing.

And listen to the others sing.

He managed to get through the performance without accidentally murdering one of his teammates or someone on another team or letting anyone know he was a song-eater, and then he was back in comfortable clothes and in the van back to the dorm and then he was in the dorm and - no one was talking.

Everyone was getting ready for bed. There was jostling at the bathroom sinks, some fumbles and stumbles as people who typically wore glasses or contact lenses were without both while they did their nightly skincare.

Minhyuk lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling but really at nothing. He couldn’t remember most of today. What had he eaten? Had he even eaten? Had the others filmed a broadcast while they were backstage? Had he napped?

All he could remember was the women in black, with their sharp, assessing gazes, and their shining silver jewelry. Every single one of them was trained to kill - and they wanted to kill him. They just didn’t know it yet.

Minhyuk checked his phone and saw - endless text messages from his mother, all variations on a theme.

_Are you all right? Are you safe? Be careful._

Minhyuk had managed to respond to her properly. He was all right. He was staying safe. He knew how to be careful. No one would suspect him.

But would anyone? 

As far as regular people knew, song-eaters could only be pretty girls, but song-eaters obviously knew better. Did Songbirds?

No. Minhyuk was safe. No one would ever suspect a boy in an idol group was secretly a song-eater. Even if people could bring themselves to believe a song-eater could be a boy, they’d never believe he could sing.

Right?

Minhyuk shoved his phone under his pillow so he wouldn’t have to pay attention to it and closed his eyes. He would be fine. Everything would be fine. Once those other boys had healed sufficiently to be released from the hospital, people would calm down, security would relax, and everything would go back to normal.

Solah-noona would be there to greet him first thing in the morning again.

Minhyuk’s stomach rumbled. Maybe he hadn’t eaten earlier today. The others had probably ordered food, but he probably hadn’t eaten much. Chances were no one would have noticed, especially if he surrendered his food to Bin or Eunwoo. Myungjun had used that trick often enough. But Minhyuk would never be able to fall asleep if he was hungry, so he sighed and slid out of his bunk, padded into the kitchenette.

Myungjun was sitting at their low table, the one that was their dining table and work table and coffee table and everything table, because no matter what their fans believed, their life wasn’t glamorous and their dorm didn’t have fancy furniture.

Minhyuk stilled, hand on the refrigerator door.

Myungjun was staring at a picture of a little girl, a girl who was obviously his sister Myungsoon, expression drawn and pensive. He was toying absently with the silver chain at his throat.

Minhyuk’s stomach turned. Dare he eat?

Would the silver burn him when it touched him? If it did, Myungjun would _know._

Minhyuk said, “Hyung, I’m making myself a snack. You want anything?” If he hadn’t kept track of his own food intake that day, he definitely hadn’t kept an eye on Myungjun’s.

“No, but thank you.”

Minhyuk knew better than to eat ramyeun the night before a schedule lest he wake up with a swollen face and get scolded by - well, not Solah-noona. He ate as much fruit as he could stomach, as well as some kimchi, and he drank a glass of water to ensure he was full.

“Do you want me to sit with you?” Minhyuk asked, once he’d washed his dishes and put them away. He considered himself pretty neat, but he could also sometimes be a bit thoughtless, and Myungjun was the neatest of them all, ended up cleaning all their small messes and absent-minded scatterings, and he shouldn’t have to do that.

Myungjun shook his head without looking away from the photo of his dead sister. “No, don’t stay awake on my account. Go rest. You worked hard today.”

“You did too. Don’t stay up too late,” Minhyuk said.

Myungjun nodded absently.

Minhyuk stood in the doorway to the kitchenette and looked at Myungjun and missed him fiercely. Even though they’d technically spent the whole day together, they hadn’t been _together._ Would they ever be again? With everything that was going on, Minhyuk had to watch his back, but Myungjun was on the lookout, hyperalert for even the tiniest lead on the monster who had killed his sister.

Minhyuk ducked his head and hurried back to their bedroom, scrambled up into his bunk and did his best to arrange himself under the covers so he looked peaceful and calm. Even if he came out of this situation alive and undiscovered, would his relationship with Myungjun be the same? It was so new, so fragile -

Minhyuk squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath. He wasn’t a stupid teenager anymore. He was an adult. He had to handle this like an adult. What mattered, first and foremost, was staying alive.

“Hyung, are you asleep?” Sanha asked softly.

“Not yet.”

“...Can I sleep with you?”

Minhyuk considered. On the one hand, Sanha kicked and moved a lot in his sleep. On the other hand…

“You want to come up here or do you want me to come down there?”

“Come down here,” Sanha said.

Minhyuk heaved himself up, flipped himself over the side of his bunk, and landed neatly on his feet. Even though he’d had no formal gymnastics training as a child, he’d learned plenty from his father. He’d wanted to share something with his father, because he knew he was closer with his mother of a necessity. It was easy to wonder if he was making his father proud, as the firstborn son. How many men wanted their sons to sing and dance for money?

Minhyuk’s mother wanted him to live, to have a happy life like she did.

Minhyuk had a happy life with his teammates, his brothers-in-arms. 

But he’d always known that it wouldn’t last forever, and for the first time he could sense the clock counting down.

“Hyung?” Sanha asked.

“You want the wall or the edge?” Minhyuk asked.

Sanha said, perhaps without thinking, “The wall. That way if something attacks us it’ll get you first.”

“If something attacks us, I’ll handle it,” Minhyuk said.

Sanha’s eyes went wide. “But -”

“You and I are the best martial artists on the team, but I have more competition experience than you. I can keep my cool under stress,” Minhyuk said.

What he meant was, he was supernaturally strong compared to all of his teammates, and he’d reveal that if he had to. To protect them. Even if it meant losing them, it was better to be separated from them and know they were alive than to save his own life at the cost of theirs.

No. He had to stop thinking like that. His team would be fine. They would all be safe. 

Sanha curled up in the bed, his baby blanket at his feet. Minhyuk slid onto the bed beside him, and Sanha tucked the covers around them.

“Everything will be all right, soon, right?” Sanha asked. “Songbirds will catch the song-eaters who did this and then everything will go back to normal.”

Did Minhyuk wish death upon others of his kind? No. But he didn’t believe crimes should go unpunished, either. 

Was it fair to punish a wolf because it ate when it was hungry?

Minhyuk hoped he wasn’t lying and said, “Everything will be all right.”

Sanha nodded and snuggled close. He fell asleep first. Minhyuk lay awake and listened to his breathing, listened to the sounds of the others moving quietly around the apartment, the gentle murmur of their conversations. What time was it? Myungjun ought to come to bed soon.

* * *

Minhyuk came awake when he heard Bin shouting, startled, because Bin was always the last to wake besides Jinwoo. He scrambled out of Sanha’s bed and was on his feet and tearing into the den, heart racing, ready for a fight. 

Bin, Eunwoo, and Myungjun were clustered around Bin’s phone. Eunwoo had one hand pressed to his mouth, shocked.

“What? What is it?” Minhyuk asked. 

Myungjun’s gaze was flat. “Jaeseon-sunbae killed himself after he found out he would never be able to sing again.”

“W-what?”

Minhyuk turned.

Sanha was clinging to the doorframe, eyes wide. His knees buckled.

Minhyuk lunged, caught him awkwardly, and they both landed on the floor. The other three were there a moment later, helping them up. Sanha was crying. Hard. Minhyuk didn’t know what to do. His first instinct was to wrap his arms around Sanha and hold him tight. The others piled on as well, hugging each other tightly.

“What’s the commotion?” Jinwoo asked. He rubbed his eyes, bleary and still half-asleep. His vision cleared as soon as he saw Sanha was crying. The others eased aside so Jinwoo could kneel beside him.

“Hey. What’s going on?”

Myungjun leaned in and whispered to him.

Jinwoo’s eyes went wide, but immediately he went into leader mode, rubbing Sanha’s back and murmuring softly to him.

Minhyuk sat back on his heels, trying to get himself together, but everything was scattered. Bin’s face was pale, and he looked seconds away from crying. Eunwoo’s expression was grim. Angry. Myungjun still looked totally blank.

Jaeseon-sunbae was dead. 

Even if the song-eater who’d attacked him hadn’t completely drained his life away, she’d killed him. 

Minhyuk dragged himself to his feet, stumbled for the bathroom, and threw up. He hadn’t eaten since last night and not much came up, but his nose and throat burned and he couldn’t see because he cried reflexively whenever he threw up. Somewhere during the sobbing and retching he felt someone behind him, rubbing his back and brushing his hair back from his face.

“Minhyuk?” Myungjun asked. 

Minhyuk’s stomach roiled again. He should push Myungjun away. He was a monster. Myungjun deserved better. Even if Myungjun never found out what Minhyuk was -

“Do you need anything?” Bin asked. “Euwnoo and Jinwoo are taking care of Sanha.”

“I’ve got this,” Myungjun said. “You go help the others with Sanha. You know Jinwoo is a sympathy crier.”

“Are you sure?”

Myungjun’s hand on Minhyuk’s back was too warm. “I’m sure.”

“Okay.”

Bin’s hesitation was understandable. He’d known Minhyuk the longest, knew him best. 

It was a lie. No one knew Minhyuk at all. He was a liar. 

He rested his forehead against the cool porcelain of the toilet bowl and struggled to breathe. 

“I’ll go get a glass of water,” Bin said finally. 

Myungjun stroked Minhyuk’s hair. “Thank you.”

As soon as Bin’s footsteps faded, Myungjun pulled Minhyuk into his arms. 

“Hey. I’m here.”

Minhyuk curled his hands into fists. He wanted to shove Myungjun away. He wanted to cling to Myungjun and never let him go. 

“I’m sorry,” Minhyuk whispered. His throat burned. 

“This isn’t your fault,” Myungjun said. 

Minhyuk couldn’t be near Myungjun any longer. Being this close to Myungjun was a betrayal. He was everything Myungjun hated, and if Myungjun ever found out Minyuk was a song-eater - 

He wriggled free of Myungjun’s embrace and ran for their room, locked the door behind him. Then, with shaking hands, he unlocked his phone and called his mother. 

“Minhyuk-ah, are you all right? You rarely call this early.”

He managed to stammer out what had happened, trying to calm his racing heart, fighting against the band of iron tightening around his lungs. 

His mother’s voice was calm, even. “Have you heard from your company? They’ll be canceling your schedules today, right? Let me find my purse. I’ll come get you. You can stay with us for a couple of days.”

“Eomma,” Minhyuk whispered, scrubbing at his eyes. “I’m a monster.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Of course, the song they're singing is [One & Only](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=50EhDl7uiJQ)
> 
> What song would you have sung for your proof shot? Let me know on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/nagi_schwarz) :) (the only song I can reliably sing is Innocent Love lol)


	4. Chapter 4

There was silence on the other end of the line. 

Then his mother said, low and savage, “Don’t you ever say that again. I’m coming to get you.” 

“No, we have a lot of work to do. I’ll be fine. Even if they give us today off, we can’t stop.” Minhyuk’s breath was still hitching and he sounded terrible, but if his mother came and took him away he might never want to go back, because he was a monster and a liar and -

“Minhyuk, it’s not safe for you right now. Bin-ah wasn’t there for the last comeback. If I get a recommendation from a doctor -”

“Eomma, no, really, I’ll be fine. It’s just -”

“You keep saying you’re fine but I know you’re not fine. I was wrong. Being an idol won’t keep you safe.”

But Minhyuk loved dancing, and he loved singing. “I’m sorry, Eomma. I was just - weak. For a moment. Losing a sunbae is hard, for whatever reason. I just needed to hear your voice.” He had trained as a singer. He could get his breathing and his voice under control. “See? I’m already better now.”

“Minhyukie,” his mother said softly.

“I’d better go now. The others are waiting for me.”

They were pounding on the door and shouting his name.

“Love you, Eomma.”

Minhyuk ended the call and flung his phone aside. He buried his face in his hands and tried to steady his breath further. He scrubbed his hands over his face, straightened his hair as best as he could, then pushed himself to his feet.

When he opened the door, Bin, Myungjun, and Jinwoo all spilled into the room.

Bin still had a glass of water.

Myungjun grabbed him and tugged him close, lifted his chin to look at his face. “What happened?”

Guilt weighed in Minhyuk’s limbs like lead. He shook Myungjun’s hands off gently. “I’m all right now. I called my mother.”

“Ah,” Bin said knowingly.

Let the others call him a mama’s boy. He was fine now, as fine as he could be under the circumstances. “I should rinse my mouth and brush my teeth. Is Sanha all right?”

“He called his mother, too,” Jinwoo said.

Minhyuk stepped carefully around Myungjun and accepted the glass of water from Bin. He went into the bathroom to rinse his mouth out, then brush his teeth.

“You might as well shower and get cleaned up for the day,” Eunwoo said. “Our schedule has been canceled, but they want to see us at the company.”

“All right.” Minhyuk fetched some clean clothes, then shut himself in the bathroom and turned on the shower. He stepped under the spray even though it was still cold, and he scrubbed himself quickly. If he cried, no one would hear, and all the evidence would be washed away.

* * *

The company didn’t have enough money to hire a Songbird for them full time. Broadcast stations would have a couple of Songbirds on staff, and Songbirds who’d been hired to protect individual teams and artists would still protect other people if danger erupted in their presence. Given how stressful times were for everyone, however, the company had retained an in-house counselor for anyone who wished to have someone to speak to, and they would slow down schedules as much as possible to help everyone maintain a sense of balance and mental health.

Minhyuk listened quietly, doing his best to maintain a blank expression. No Songbird dogging his heels twenty-four-seven. That was a relief. He’d text his mother and let her know. As for a counselor - no need. It wasn’t like he could tell a counselor he was a song-eater. Song-eaters weren’t considered human. The counselor would tell the nearest Songbird and -

Minhyuk couldn’t help but look over at Myungjun. Everything that was going on had to be reopening the wound of his sister’s death - if it had ever healed. 

Had Jinwoo told management that Myungjun was looking to avenge her death? If he thought he had a lead on the song-eater who’d killed her, what would he do?

Sanha and Bin already had plans to speak to the counselor, and Minhyuk was glad for them.

After management had finished talking to them, Jinwoo said, “Even if our appearance schedule is canceled, we should still do dance practice.”

The others nodded.

“Sanha, you lead the stretches,” Jinwoo said. “I’ll be there in a minute.” He caught Manager’s eye, and Manager nodded.

The rest of them filed out of the conference room and down the hall to their practice room.

The company, like the shop and the broadcast station, had fewer female employees out and about. Minhyuk did his best to be polite and acknowledge the employees he recognized. He didn’t ask after the ones he didn’t see. He didn’t want to know if they were on paid leave temporarily or had been fired altogether. 

In the practice room, a still wan and listless Sanha led the stretches on autopilot, probably parroting the opening stretches from years of judo and taekwondo training. The others followed along. Myungjun and Bin did their best to liven things up, responding to Sanha’s instruction with military enthusiasm. Minhyuk managed to make himself join in, so Eunwoo did too, and when Jinwoo finally joined them, he was hit with a chorus of military-grade _Sir, yes, sir!_ when Sanha called out the next stretch. Jinwoo stood beside Minyuk in the second row, and they kept on stretching.

Once they were warmed up, it was time to practice the choreography. It was a challenging piece, not because any of the moves required particularly technical skill but because it required a high level of energy all the way through. All of them would be pushed to the limit to both sing well and dance well whenever they performed this song. Sanha arranged the camcorder so they could film themselves, and Bin made sure they had a center marker for the space marked out as their stage.

Jinwoo cued up the music, and everyone else took their places. Sanha started the video recording and dashed into his place.

The first run was always terrible. Most of them didn’t quite have their heads in the game, focused more on remembering the choreography than performing. Because they were focused inwardly, there were more mistakes and there was less synchronization, and they had several near misses, almost crashing into each other as they changed places and formations.

Because none of them were going very hard, they weren’t completely exhausted when they finished, but the choreography itself was demanding enough that they were breathless and sweaty.

“Could have been worse,” Jinwoo said, pausing the camera.

Minhyuk and Myungjun distributed water bottles.

“Could have been better, too.” Bin grimaced.

“Well, we have hours of practice yet,” Eunwoo said. “We’ll get better.”

They filmed the first run so they had something to compare their last run to, get a sense of progress. Subsequent recordings were for them to review so they could see what worked and what needed improvement.

Minhyuk would be the first to say that Bin was a better dancer than him. When it came to range of styles and knowledge of foundational technique, Minhyuk’s classical training served him well, and he knew a lot of the small tricks that made dancing beautiful, didn’t have to think about them to deploy them. But as an idol, Bin was a superior dancer. He could learn new choreography at the drop of a hat, and he had a smooth, effortless style. Eunwoo could also memorize choreography much faster than Minhyuk, so he could take time to polish his movements while everyone else was still learning the steps. Minhyuk was the most likely to forget the choreography to a song, but as a seasoned performer he could recover well, and he was also a skilled improviser, which had saved him more than once.

It wasn’t saving him today, because he couldn’t get his head in the game.

After an hour, he was still blanking on some of his bigger cross-formation transitions, and he either crashed into one of the others or was blocking or shadowing someone he shouldn’t.

Jinwoo was a patient leader, and he called for a break. There was no point in reviewing the take because they hadn’t even made it all the way through the song before Bin whipped around with a sharp _“Yah!”_ when Minhyuk passed too close again.

Sanha paused the music, and Myungjun paused the camera. 

“I need some air.” Bin swept out of the practice room. He was probably headed for the roof.

Eunwoo cast Minhyuk an inscrutable look, then hurried after Bin.

Jinwoo said, “I’m going to find us some fans. Sanha, come help me out.”

Sanha nodded and followed him. Minhyuk watched them go, and unease crept up his spine. Did the others know about him and Myungjun? Was that why they’d left the two of them alone?

“Minhyukie.” Myungjun sat beside him, close but not quite touching.

His warmth was cloying. Minhyuk drained half of his water bottle, then fanned himself with the damp collar of his t-shirt. “I’m off my game. I know I am. I’ll get back on. I just -”

“You’re not the only one off your game.” Myungjun’s voice was calm, gentle.

The unease slithering up and down Minhyuk’s spine was fast turning into full-blown anxiety. He didn’t look up. “I’m the only one who keeps crashing into other people and missing my marks.”

“Minhyukie,” Myungjun began, but Minhyuk shook his head.

“Hyung, I - I’m sorry. I just - can’t right now.” Couldn’t talk to Myungjun, couldn’t be honest and open with him, couldn’t -

Myungjun covered Minhyuk’s hand with his, gentle, warm.

It was too much. His touch burned. Minhyuk shook him off without thinking, and then he looked up, saw the hurt in Myungjun’s eyes.

Myungjun drew his hand back, let it fall to his side. “I see.”

“Hyung,” Minhyuk protested, but what else could he say? “I’m not angry at you. I’m frustrated. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t take it out on you.”

“You keep calling me _hyung,_ but it’s just the two of us.” Myungjun’s tone was measured, calm, too calm.

Minhyuk went to say _Myungjunnie,_ but the door opened and Jinwoo and Sanha were back, both trying to carry three box fans each, and Myungjun went to help them, so Minhyuk scrambled to his feet too. Bin and Eunwoo reappeared in time to settle in with fans while they reviewed the footage of the last complete run-through they’d managed, talked about the parts they had to clean up and fix.

Once the review was finished, Jinwoo reset the camera and the music.

“Are we ready?” he asked. He looked at Minhyuk.

Minhyuk glanced at Myungjun, but Myungjun was fixing his shoelace. Minhyuk looked up at Jinwoo and nodded.

“Yeah. We’re ready.”

They took their places.

Eunwoo ran the music, because he started on the side closest to the sound system.

“Ready?”

“Ready!” Bin said.

Sanha shouted, “Fighting!”

The opening notes trilled, and the six of them slid into motion.

This was it. Minhyuk had to get it right. He had to -

He crashed into Bin.

They went down in a tangle of limbs.

Before Minhyuk knew what was what, Bin rolled on top of him and swung.

Minhyuk’s instincts kicked in, part song-eater, part competition taekwondo fighter, and he flipped them, landed on top, poised to strike.

Hands closed over his arms and shoulders, dragged him back. He thrashed.

“Yah!” Jinwoo shouted.

Everyone froze.

Jinwoo never yelled, not like that. 

Jinwoo closed his eyes and took several deep breaths. “We’re done for today. Practice was a bad idea. Get back to the dorm. I’ll speak to the manager.”

Minhyuk swallowed hard. “Hyung, I’m sorry.” But he wasn’t sure if he was apologizing to Bin or Jinwoo or both.

“I’m sorry too,” Bin added.

Eunwoo and Sanha, on either side of Minhyuk, said nothing.

Myungjun picked himself up off the floor and said, “I’ll be going first.” He headed out the door. 

Jinwoo followed, ostensibly to go talk to Manager. Minhyuk slumped back onto the floor and closed his eyes.

The door opened, and two more people departed, though Minhyuk didn’t focus enough on their footfalls to know who.

He sensed someone beside him. 

“Minhyuk-ah.” It was Bin.

“Hyung.” Minhyuk sighed. This conversation felt like deja vu.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have reacted like that. I know I’m hot-tempered, but that’s no excuse.”

“I get it. It’s fine. I screwed up.” Minhyuk squeezed his eyes shut tighter.

“What’s going on? You’re not usually like this.” Bin’s voice was soft.

“My head is just really all over the place. I’m sorry. I’m a professional. I should be able to focus better.” Minhyuk forced himself to take several deep, measured breaths. In for four, hold for seven, out for eight, just like Myungjun had taught him.

Myungjun.

Minhyuk sighed and opened his eyes.

“This morning,” Bin said. “What happened with Jaeseon-sunbae. You and Sanha took it really hard.”

Minhyuk’s throat tightened. “Yeah. I didn’t expect to.”

“You want to get some ramyeun and talk about it?”

Like old times, when they were trainees, the two of them against the world, isolated from the rest of their peers by seniority if not age. 

Minhyuk missed those days, that innocence, when they were still young students and mostly anonymous and protected from the piercing scrutiny of media and fans and antis. But what could Minhyuk say to Bin that would lead to productive conversation? Because Bin didn’t know Minhyuk was a song-eater, and he didn’t know Minhyuk was in love with Myungjun, who despised song-eaters instead of just being afraid of them.

Minhyuk pushed himself up. “Thanks for the offer, hyung. Maybe another time. I think I’ll walk back to the dorm, call my mom on the way.”

Bin studied him for a long time, then nodded. “All right. Don’t linger too long. I’ll be going first.” He rose to his feet and grabbed his jacket and water bottle, headed for the door.

Minhyuk watched him go and felt hollow inside.

Instead of calling his mother, he went up to the roof where no one would bother him. He hopped up on the railing and perched carefully, then fired up his phone to a music streaming service, one that wasn’t live even though he was tired and could have used the energy boost, and he drank.

Justin Bieber’s voice, pre-recorded, tasted like fizzy strawberry soda and sunlight.

Bruno Mars tasted like a smooth caramel and a hint of coconut.

Taeyeon’s voice tasted like spun sugar, light and sweet.

He was insane, taking a risk like this when everyone was on hyperalert for song-eaters. But with each song, the tension coiled in him loosened, and he could breathe a little easier.

The music player cued up one of the team’s own songs on shuffle, and Minhyuk shut it off immediately, because he couldn’t risk getting complacent about drinking even facsimiles of his teammates’ voices. He pocketed his phone and headed for the stairs, bypassed the interior of the building entirely and took the stairwell all the way down the street, and headed back to the dorms.

Time to face the music.

Only there was no music, just everyone moving around each other very carefully, voices hushed, drawn in on themselves so they didn’t actually touch. Minhyuk was the last one there, and he noticed how Bin and Jinwoo cast him concerned looks when he stepped into the den. He greeted the others politely, then went to grab a change of clothes and a clean towel for the shower.

If only he could wash away the stain of who he was as easily as he could wash away the remains of today’s awful dance practice, but years of lies and deceit were woven into his skin like indelible tattoos, and nothing in this world would make their weight any lighter.

When Minhyuk emerged from the bathroom, there was food on the central table, as someone had ordered lunch.

“Come eat.” Sanha scooted aside to make room for him, patted the empty space.

Minhyuk shook his head. “Thanks, but I’m not very hungry. Save some for me for later?” 

“You should eat,” Jinwoo said, quietly but firmly. “You danced hard today.”

Dancing hard wasn’t the same as dancing well.

“Besides,” Jinwoo said. “We need to talk.” His gaze was pointed.

Minhyuk bobbed his head obediently and sat beside Sanha, careful not to touch either him or Bin. Opposite him, Myungjun said nothing, focused on his food. At least he was actually eating for once. Sanha nudged the rice and meat and kimchi toward Minhyuk, and he served himself a few small portions.

“With everything that’s going on, we need to keep ourselves safe. So from now on, if you’re going out, you should always have someone with you. For schedules we’ll obviously have staff or a road manager with us,” Jinwoo said.

The others nodded.

“But if you just want to go out and about, like for a coffee or something, you should have a buddy. Buddy system,” Jinwoo continued. He met each of their gazes, waiting for acknowledgment from all of them. “So. Everyone pick partners.”

“We should make them even,” Eunwoo said. “One relatively good fighter with one relatively poor fighter.”

“None of us are fighters,” Bin said slowly.

“Well, you’re big and strong, so you should go with someone smaller and...less strong,” Eunwoo said. 

Bin nudged Minhyuk. “You’re smaller than me. Want to be partners?”

“But I wanted Minhyuk,” Sanha protested. “He’s been in the most fights out of all of us.”

“Sparring matches,” Minhyuk corrected. “And after me, you’re the most experienced martial artist.” Then he cleared his throat. “Whoever is the best fighter should protect Myungjun-hyung, because he’s our main vocalist.”

And the most desirable target, for a song-eater who was bent on killing. 

“Perhaps the most reasonable thing to do is separate the vocal line so everyone in the vocal line has a partner from the non-vocal line,” Eunwoo said.

“There’s four of you and two of us,” Minhyuk said.

“I realize that, of the vocal line, I’m the least desirable target for a song-eater,” Eunwoo said. 

“Hyung,” Sanha protested, but Eunwoo just shrugged.

“But if the song-eaters are being controlled by other humans, then maybe the targets they pick aren’t based on vocals alone,” Bin said.

Sanha shivered.

“Minhyuk, you should go with Eunwoo,” Jinwoo said. “Myungjun, you go with Bin. Sanha, you’re with me.”

Myungjun and Sanha nodded.

“I’m serious,” Jinwoo said. “We have to keep each other safe.”

Minhyuk nodded.

“So stay together.”

Bin and Eunwoo nodded.

Eunwoo looked at Minhyuk. “Let’s protect each other, all right?”

“Of course, hyung,” Minhyuk said. He couldn’t help but eye Eunwoo’s silver jewelry and wonder how much protection he really needed, or if Eunwoo would ultimately protect him if things got dire.

“Now finish eating,” Jinwoo said, nodding at Minhyuk, and they all fell silent.

Sanha started poking around on the fan cafe on his phone, and he read out cute and funny comments that fans had left, either about their recent performances or the acoustic concert they’d done the other day.

“One day we should do a whole acoustic concert for the fans,” Bin said. “Like MTV Unplugged, you know? I bet they’d really like that.”

“If we kept it small, like in a cute cafe or something,” Jinwoo agreed, expression turning thoughtful.

“You two would have to brush up on your singing,” Sanha said.

Jinwoo rolled his eyes.

Minhyuk shrugged and finished his meal. “Thanks for the food,” he said, and gathered up his empty plate, went to throw it away.

He went to his room and crawled up into his bunk and lay there staring at the ceiling, listening to the others bustling about and cleaning up. He had to find a way to apologize to Myungjun. Chances of getting him alone any time soon were slim. Even though Jinwoo had assigned them partners, that wasn’t set in stone, was it? They’d have to be flexible, based on who had schedules when.

Eventually the noise in the den died down. Minhyuk rolled off his bunk and landed on his feet, poked his head out the door. Everyone but Myungjun had dispersed, because somehow it always fell to Myungjun to do the majority of the cleaning up. He rarely complained, despite what fans might think.

Minhyuk rolled up his sleeves and padded into the kitchenette, grabbed a sponge. “Here, let me help.”

Myungjun glanced at him. “You didn’t make any of this mess.”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t help.” Minhyuk started scrubbing cups.

Myungjun said in a low voice, “You know you can talk to me. I get that we’re both men, and men don’t talk about their feelings. But I’m here for you. As your hyung, too.”

Longing surged in Minhyuk’s chest. He wanted Myungjun to hold him, for it to just be the two of them. But his very existence was a betrayal of who Myungjun was, and -

“Thanks, Myungjunnie. I really mean it. I just - I don’t even know what I’m feeling right now.” Minhyuk managed a small smile.

Myungjun looked at him for a long moment, then nodded, and they continued washing the dishes in a more comfortable silence.

Minhyuk did know how he felt. Guilty. But there was no good way to explain why he felt that way.

The rest of the day passed quietly, the six of them navigating around each other tentatively, aware of each other but not quite in each other’s orbits. Sanha played video games. Bin sprawled on the couch, reading webtoons. Jinwoo stayed in his room with his laptop, working on a song. They had supper together, and they made small talk, reminisced about their time as trainees. Bin shared stories of trainee shenanigans from before any of the others had joined the company. Minhyuk did his best to chime in, but he still felt heavy with guilt, closed off from everyone around him.

“We were cursed,” Bin said. “The sound system in our practice room went wonky all the time. Especially after we’d been practising for a long time.”

“Maybe it got worn out with you,” Jinwoo said, and Bin laughed, his cute, high-pitched little dolphin laugh.

“Hyung,” Sanha said to Myungjun. “You were already finished with high school before you became a trainee. What’s the craziest thing you did before you joined the company, that we were never allowed to do as trainees?”

“Well,” Myungjun said, “I dated.”

Minhyuk looked up at him sharply. He shouldn’t have been surprised. Myungjun was five years older than him, had a lot more life experience. But the thought of Myungjun being with anyone else made jealousy, hot and ugly, twist low in Minhyuk’s gut. He lowered his gaze, drained his bottle of banana milk in one go.

“Wow. How many people have you dated?” Sanha asked.

Bin had dated two people on the sly as a trainee, and Jinwoo was with the same girl he’d been with since the team’s dating ban ended. Eunwoo had dated one girl in high school - if two weeks of texting counted as dating. Sanha had never dated anyone. The others thought Minhyuk had never dated anyone either.

“Four,” Myungjun said.

Minhyuk looked up again. Four? Was that including Minhyuk, or…?

“Was it fun?” Sanha asked. “Dating always seems like such hard work on dramas. All the fancy dates and whatnot. All the calling and texting.”

“Well, if you consider how much you post and message for our fans, it’s about the same for dating, so it’s not that much work,” Myungjun said. “I did my best to be a good boyfriend, but I was young and afraid of really giving anyone my heart, so none of the relationships lasted long. They didn’t end badly, but the end was inevitable in all of them.”

Minhyuk caught Myungjun’s gaze for a second. Myungjun looked right at him, then away. Minhyuk bit his lip. Had he not given Minhyuk his heart? They said they loved each other, but - did Myungjun feel like Minhyuk was closed off from him, because he wouldn’t talk about what he was feeling?

Jealousy dissolved back into guilt, and Minhyuk slouched down a little, shoulders up around his ears. Myungjun wasn’t wrong. Minhyuk was closed off from everyone. He did his best to be a teammate and a friend, a good hyung and a good dongsaeng, but he could never fully commit himself to anyone. All he really had was dancing and music. 

After supper, Sanha roped Bin into playing video games with him, so of course Myungjun and Jinwoo joined in as well. Eunwoo curled up on the couch with a book.

Minhyuk was exhausted, more emotionally than physically, so he bade the others good night and retreated to the bedroom. Once he was in pajamas, he crawled into his bunk and closed his eyes. Maybe his mother was right. Maybe being an idol wasn’t the safest place for him. He could become a dance instructor. He had plenty of experience doing original choreography and teaching it to others. He could certify to become a taekwondo instructor, too, since oftentimes dance studios and dojangs shared spaces. He’d made a promise, though, to his teammates and to their fans. Seven years of his life. This year was their fourth anniversary. He was more than halfway through.

Could he make it for three more years?


	5. Chapter 5

The next day, there was thankfully no grim news about the three boys who’d been attacked by song-eaters. Jaeseon’s company had released a statement, and the entire industry was in mourning. Multiple other teams canceled their public appearances for that day so they could join with their fans in mourning, and they posted supportive messages on all their official social media accounts. 

Once Jinwoo was awake, they headed over to the company for more dance practice. Once again, however, Jinwoo was in long talks with the management team while everyone else stretched out and warmed up. It was Bin who suggested that for fun they do a random play dance of all their own songs.

Eunwoo looked alarmed.

“Aw, hyung,” Sanha protested. “But we’ll be all tired and sweaty before we even start the real practice.”

“It’s not a bad idea,” Myungjun said. “We’ll have our heads more in the game before the initial run-through. And refreshing ourselves on our other choreo is never a bad plan, especially if they ask us to do some kind of medley dance on a variety show.”

Bin grinned and poked around on his phone. There were plenty of fan-made random play games on YouTube, so all he had to do was pick one.

The four of them arranged themselves in a circle.

“Which way is the front of the stage?” Sanha asked.

“Away from the mirror,” Minhyuk said. Mirrors gave dancers in formation a false sense of depth perception, and if they were looking at themselves in the mirror instead of at each other, collisions and uneven spacing were more likely to occur.

Myungjun and Eunwoo nodded.

Bin shouted, “Fighting!” and then ran to his place in the circle.

The music started. It took them all one second to recognize the song, a few more seconds to recognize _where_ in the song was being played, and a few more seconds to scramble into position.

That was the complication of random play dances - every time the song switched, they had to reorient themselves to a different formation.

But Minhyuk could feel it in his blood this time. He was on his game. He grinned and threw himself into the familiar choreography. This was in his muscles and bones. His body knew what to do.

Unsurprisingly, the mix was all their title tracks, though not in any chronological order. 

“This is like cheating for you,” Sanha protested when they landed on one of the songs Minhyuk had choreographed.

“Eunwoo memorizes choreography way better than me,” Minhyuk shot back, and then the song switched and there was another panic as they rushed to their new places.

“Yah!” Bin cried when the next song was a b-side that they’d only performed in concerts.

The very final song was their Japanese single, and they hadn’t performed the entire choreo as a whole team more than a handful of times, so there was much shouting and panic and _Where is this?_ And _It’s the first chorus!_ And then _It’s the second chorus!_ And _Where am I?_

They ended eight straight minutes of dancing sprawled on the floor, laughing. Minhyuk felt the aftermath of the music sparkling in his veins, felt like he’d drunk a thousand songs.

“What did I miss? Are you all right?” Jinwoo stepped into the practice room.

“We were just warming up,” Eunwoo said.

“Warming up? You look exhausted.”

Bin picked himself up off the floor and shook his limbs out. “Do your stretches while we recover, and then we can get into it.”

Jinwoo nodded. He was an experienced dancer, so he could get himself ready for practice on his own. As he crossed the floor, he cast Minhyuk a look.

Minhyuk pushed his sweaty hair out of his eyes and grinned, and Jinwoo broke into one of his crinkle-eyed grins, the one that fans said made him look like a mouse, and Minhyuk had the sense that, for at least a little while, things would be all right.

“What did management say?” Sanha asked.

“We’ll issue a statement as a team,” Jinwoo said. “But we will have our next broadcast performance as scheduled.”

Minhyuk sobered. He sat up, drew his knees up, resisted the urge to hug them to his chest.

“I’ll write the first draft,” Myungjun said. His sunny post-dancing smile had dimmed.

It was usually Eunwoo who did things like compose statements. His reputation as a dream boy from a romance comic wasn’t unwarranted: he’d been a brilliant student in school. People forgot - if they ever knew - that Jinwoo and Myungjun had both also been honor students. Myungjun had plenty of skill at expressing himself with the written word. 

Jinwoo nodded. “All right. Let me know when it’s finished.”

Since Myungjun was writing on behalf of the team, they’d all look it over before Jinwoo sent it on to management. 

“Let me finish getting warmed up,” Jinwoo said. The others nodded and puttered around, getting the camera set up and the music cued up on Bin’s phone since his was already connected to the sound system. 

The reminder of the state of the idol industry right now - and Minhyuk’s very precarious place in it - was like a splash of icy water, but Minhyuk had to shake it off. He was a professional. He’d been training and performing for years. He could dance properly in practice. As time passed, people would calm down. Things would go back to normal. It was time to get to work. 

By the time Jinwoo was properly warmed up, Myungjun had typed up a rough draft of a statement on his phone, and the others had recovered from their random play dance.

Minhyuk stepped into place and waited for Eunwoo to start the music - a few seconds from the end of the song, to give him time to get into place before the song, on single song loop, went back to the beginning. Minhyuk glanced over his shoulder at Myungjun. After writing condolences for a fellow idol essentially murdered by a song-eater, was his head in the game? But then Minhyuk saw Bin eyeing him and knew Bin must be wondering the same of him. 

Minhyuk shook his limbs out. He was ready. 

The first light, clear notes spilled from the speakers, like sunlight on a late spring morning, and Minhyuk surged into motion.

Myungjun had the most beautiful voice on the team - he was the main vocalist for a reason - but Bin’s voice was beautiful, too, smooth and clean but flexible and strong, and his voice was perfect to start this song. It had taken Bin years of hard work to get his voice to where it was now - he had not been a naturally good singer at the start of his training, unlike Sanha and Myungjun - and Minhyuk was always pleased to hear how far Bin had come. He knew, better than anyone, just how good Bin’s voice was now, because he could just barely taste the notes that made it strong and passionate and energetic. He could taste the moments when Bin was smiling while he sang, and those made Minhyuk smile too.

Minhyuk closed his eyes and lost himself in the music. Finally, he was in the game.

When the song ended, after they held their poses, Sanha collapsed to the floor, panting.

Minhyuk went to turn off the music, because at the end of the song he was closest to the sound system.

Jinwoo collapsed on the floor beside Sanha. “Why did we do this? Why did we pick this as our title track?”

“Because,” Bin said, eyes squeezed shut, hand pressed to his chest as he tried to catch his breath. “We want to die.”

“Yah,” Myungjun said lightly. “Don’t joke.”

Bin opened his eyes and straightened up. “Sorry, hyung.” His expression sobered.

“We did well, though.” Eunwoo caught Minhyuk’s eye and nodded, approving.

Jinwoo crawled across the floor, heaved himself up onto his knees, and finally stopped the camera. “Let’s check the recording and see what we need to work on. But Eunwoo’s right. We did well. Maybe that random play dance is the perfect warm-up.”

“Not every time,” Sanha protested.

Jinwoo connected the camera to the laptop, and they gathered around it so they could all see the video. Minhyuk eased himself into the huddle beside Myungjun. He didn’t say anything, just pressed close enough that Myungjun could feel his warmth.

Myungjun glanced at him briefly.

Minhyuk offered a small, hopeful smile, and then it was all eyes on the screen.

Dancing as a unit wasn’t just about synchronization, though they all had to be hitting a beat the same way. Minhyuk had learned early on that there was more than one way to hear a beat and more than one way to hit it, and all of them had excellent senses of rhythm, but they all heard the beat differently, and so coordinating their movements so they held certain poses the same way at the same time for the same length of time was complicated. They had to balance synchronization with all of their individual style as dancers, as well as the fact that they were all built differently. Sanha and Bin were long-limbed, and their extensions and lines were more noticeable than they were for Jinwoo and Myungjun, who were the shortest. Because they were built differently, they approached angles differently, and for Eunwoo to achieve the same line as Minhyuk on an arm extension, he had to reach more from his shoulder where Minhyuk had to reach from his back.

Thankfully, they all knew the choreography well enough at this point that they could start honing in on the details, like angles and hitting beats.

“Right there, you can hear that we’re not quite hitting the beat at the same time,” Bin said, because for this choreo they stepped _hard,_ and their stomps were audible even with the music blasting from all four corners of the room.

“Even if fans won’t be able to hear it on broadcast shows, they will on live performances,” Jinwoo said. “We definitely want to be hitting that the same way.”

Minhyuk watched and marked moments mentally, where little things needed cleaning up. How they practiced was how they performed. They needed to be able to do the choreography without thinking too hard about it so they could focus their energy on the wider aspects of the performance, like their vocals and interacting with the fans (or cameras, on broadcast shows; how those poor camera operators must have been tired of pretty idols making eyes at them).

“All right,” Minhyuk said, jumping up. “I think we’re ready. What should we hit first?”

“The chorus,” Bin said. “Without the music. Let’s just run through it three times without the music, make sure we’re all hitting the beat, and then we’ll do it with the music.”

Jinwoo nodded.

Minhyuk offered a hand to Myungjun, who looked startled before he accepted it. Minhyuk pulled Myungjun to his feet. If he held Myungjun’s hand a little longer than was strictly necessary, no one else would notice.

 _I’ve missed you,_ Minhyuk thought, longing welling in him suddenly. He moved to his starting position, which was on the opposite side of the formation from Myungjun. Even though they lived together, shared a room, they’d been distant, even if only for a day, and it was all Minhyuk’s fault.

Everything was his fault, and he had no idea what to do to fix it, if fixing it was even possible, and he shouldn’t be selfish, shouldn’t burden Myungjun with his feelings like this, but he couldn’t help himself.

 _I’m sorry,_ Minhyuk thought. _I can’t stop loving you._

“Ready?” Eunwoo asked, hand poised over Bin’s phone.

Minhyuk could keep his head in the game, though. “Ready!”

* * *

Jinwoo shut off the recording. “That’s how our dance practices should go.” He clapped Minhyuk on the shoulder, and Minhyuk grinned at him.

“Just in time for lunch,” Bin said, rubbing his belly meaningfully.

Eunwoo rolled his eyes. “You’re such a bottomless pit.”

“Made more bottomless by doing that choreo a thousand times this morning,” Bin said.

Sanha nudged Myungjun. “Hyung, let’s see what you wrote.”

Immediately they all sobered. Myungjun held out his phone to Jinwoo, who read it first, then passed it on to Eunwoo, who read it quickly and passed it on to Bin, who read it more slowly and passed it to Sanha, who read it several times before he gave it to Minhyuk.

Minhyuk swallowed hard.

Usually Myungjun used a cute font on his phone to take notes, not because he was trying to oversell the bright, cute persona that fans loved but because notes were boring and he was trying to cheer himself up. He was intelligent and had been a good student, and a lot of his academic success had been possible due to his ability to motivate himself with even small things, like cute fonts for note-taking.

_We offer our sincerest condolences to Jung Jaeseon-sunbaenim’s family, team, friends, and colleagues. His passing was tragic, and we hope those who remain are able to find solace in his memory and his music. Like our peers, we are committed to promoting the health and safety of singers and other musical performers, and we support all efforts to eradicate the monsters who caused this tragedy._

Monsters.

Minhyuk bit his lip. He’d heard it a thousand times, from strangers and classmates and friends and even some of his own relatives. He’d heard the others use that word to describe him and his kind so many times he could usually ignore it, but looking at it now, knowing Myungjun chose it so deliberately -

He shoved the phone back at Myungjun. “Looks fine to me.”

Eunwoo said, “Maybe take out the clause _like our peers,_ since that could detract from the emphasis that this is _our_ message, but otherwise it also looks fine to me.”

Myungjun nodded and tapped his phone. “You’re right. Thank you.”

“Email it to the manager and CC me on it?” Jinwoo smiled and patted Myungjun’s shoulder.

He nodded and tapped at his phone some more. “Done!”

“And now,” Bin said, “lunch!”

Once they managed to agree on a restaurant, they ordered in. Minhyuk and Sanha, as the youngest, were dispatched to meet the delivery person and bring the food back to the practice room, where they sat around in a circle and shared. While distributing drinks - fruit smoothie for Sanha, iced americanos for the hyungs, iced tea for himself - Minhyuk managed to seat himself beside Myungjun, partially just to be near him, partially to keep an eye on what he was eating, if anything.

Thankfully, he was eating well, but then they’d all just danced very hard.

The others chatted about tomorrow’s stage - shorter than the last one, for which they’d filmed cute messages to their fans beforehand - so Minhyuk fished his phone out of his pocket and sent a text message to Myungjun.

_Myungjunnie, I miss you. I’m sorry. I know you’re probably going through a hard time with all this, that it brings up sad memories._

Minhyuk set his phone aside, face down, and continued eating. Right as he picked up another slice of kimbap, Myungjun reached for his phone, checked it. He tapped out a reply rapidly, then answered Sanha’s question about his first moment in the choreo where he had to move from the back of the formation to the front and cover a lot of ground in a few steps.

_We’re all going through a hard time._

The response seemed impersonal in its brevity. Was Myungjun still mad at him? Minhyuk typed a reply. _You’re probably going through a harder time. I’m sorry I’m being self-absorbed and selfish. I’ll do anything for you._

“How do you do it?” Sanha asked. “Your legs are so short.”

Myungjun shrugged. “I do it. It’s what needs to be done. We can all do it. Bin or Minhyuk could probably explain it better.”

Bin launched into an explanation about moving from the core, but Minhyuk tuned him out, listening intently for the soft buzz of his phone that meant he had an answer. He was focused on his food instead of looking at Myungjun in case it became too obvious he was staring.

Finally his phone buzzed, and he pounced on it.

_It’s fine._

Minhyuk swallowed down his disappointment and set his phone down. He’d made this mess himself. 

* * *

Practice went well for the afternoon, and management was pleased with the statement Myungjun had composed, so when they finally went back to the dorms to wash up and have supper, they were all in good moods, despite the general air of sombreness that pervaded the entire company, especially in the hallways when familiar staff were markedly absent.

Minhyuk was the last to wash up on account of being the one cooking dinner. Eunwoo was a passable cook himself on account of being diligent about reading and following recipes, so once a big pot of army stew was simmering and kimchi fried rice was warming up in the wok, Eunwoo took over and Minhyuk went to get his supplies to shower. Thankfully, they had two bathrooms to share between the six of them. As a general rule they only showered one at a time so as not to encroach on each other’s hot water supply, but at least Minhyuk didn’t have to fumble through six sets of hair products and body wash in the shower.

He’d just stepped out of the shower and was toweling himself off when the door opened.

Minhyuk used the towel to cover himself instinctively, even though the six of them had seen each other naked plenty of times over the years, as they’d shared a single bathroom between them once they’d been selected for debut, and backstage at concerts sometimes allowed little privacy for quick costume changes between numbers.

“Sorry,” Myungjun said. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

Minhyuk relaxed. “It’s fine. Were you looking for something?”

“Floss. I have something stuck in my teeth.” Myungjun gestured to the counter.

It made sense for the three roommates to share a bathroom.

“Go for it.” Minhyuk gestured vaguely, then resumed toweling himself off. 

Just a day or two ago, it would have felt totally comfortable, even a little cutely domestic, for Myungjun to be flossing his teeth while Minhyuk dressed and dried his hair. Now Minhyuk was hesitant, trying to make himself as small and unobtrusive as possible while Myungjun was fixed on his own reflection.

Minhyuk finished dressing, tossed the towel into the laundry basket, and reached for the doorknob. Myungjun threw away the length of dental floss and turned, and he crashed into Minhyuk’s chest.

“Sorry!”

“It’s fine. You didn’t hurt me,” Minhyuk said. He didn’t add, _You couldn’t have hurt me._

As a song-eater, he was far stronger and tougher than any regular human, but he’d learned how to maintain the illusion of being an ordinary human, keeping himself just a bit slower and weaker than Bin in everything he did. He wanted to say _I miss you,_ but he’d already said it once in a text, and he didn’t want to seem pathetic and desperate.

But did this mean they’d broken up? Minhyuk had always heard that a day or two of silence from a boyfriend - no calls or texts or other communication - basically meant a relationship was over. Where he and Myungjun lived together and worked together closely, totally cutting off communication was impossible, but they hadn’t been _together_ as a couple in a day or two. No affection, not even the tiniest kiss.

Minhyuk stared at Myungjun, who stared back at him.

More guilt, made even heavier by helplessness, settled low and cold in Minhyuk’s gut. “I’m sorry.”

Myungjun raised his eyebrows. “Why are you apologizing?”

“I know I’m bad about talking about my feelings, that I pushed you away. I didn’t mean to -” Minhyuk bit his lip. 

Myungjun sighed. “Don’t worry about it. You’re young. It’s not that big a deal. We’re all stressed out right now. I’m sorry I wasn’t more patient.”

Unease whispered in Minhyuk’s blood. _You’re young. I’m sorry I wasn’t more patient._ Was Myungjun regretting their age difference? “Are we all right? You and I?”

Though Myungjun nodded and smiled, the expression didn’t quite reach his eyes and did nothing to dispel Minhyuk’s guilt and worry. Before he could inquire further, Myungjun opened the door and darted out. Minhyuk followed a moment later.

Dinner was a pleasant affair. It might have been more enjoyable, what with the others complimenting Minhyuk’s cooking and volunteering to do the dishes after, but Minhyuk was distracted by Myungjun and how things were still not-quite-right between them. After dinner, while Minhyuk was curled up on the couch watching Sanha and Myungjun play a video game, he wondered what he could do to make things up to Myungjun. Telling him what was actually going on emotionally was out of the question. But if he did something sweet and comforting, that would help, right?

While he brooded on the problem of his relationship - every one of his relationships had problems, because they were all built on lies - his phone buzzed on the end table beside the couch. He scooped it up. His mother was calling. 

It was almost second nature to roll to his feet and head for the tiny balcony off the den, step out for some fresh air and trade the cheerful din of the dorm room for the distant roar of the city.

“Hey, Eomma.”

“You’re filming for a broadcast show tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah. Our anniversary song.”

“Has your company put lots of new safety measures in place?” Eomma’s tone was calm, innocently curious, but Minhyuk knew better.

“Apart from furloughing every female employee who can’t pass a singing test, not really.”

“How are you holding up? After what happened with your sunbae.”

“Better than yesterday for sure.” That was the truth, but he was probably doing worse when it came to his relationship with Myungjun. Neither of them had told anyone about it. Minhyuk’s mother knew the most about him, more than anyone, because only she and Grandma knew what he really was, but she didn’t know about Myungjun, and if he told her, she’d worry more. If he were smart, he’d date a boy who couldn’t sing. Maybe a company backup dancer, if not from his company then another. Not every backup dancer was an idol hopeful. Plenty of them were happy just being dancers.

“I’m glad to hear it. I’m excited to see you on television again! I’ll record it for Grandma to see. She’s so proud of you.”

“Thanks, Eomma.” Some of the weight on Minhyuk’s chest eased, and he could breathe better.

“At the broadcast station, I’m sure they’ll have more extensive security upgrades,” Eomma said, and Minhyuk’s chest tightened again. “Remember to look out for the -”

“Silver. Always.” Minhyuk sighed.

“And if you get caught?”

“Deny, deny, deny, and if they refuse to believe, die.” Minhyuk swallowed down the bile that rose in his throat at the mantra he’d learned when he was a tiny child.

Eomma sighed too. “I love you, Minhyuk-ah.”

“Love you too, Eomma. I’d better get inside and sleep.”

“Take care of yourself, my son.”

“I will, I promise.”

“Good night.”

Minhyuk smiled faintly even though his mother couldn’t see him. “Good night.” She’d be able to hear it in his voice.

The call ended, and Minhyuk pocketed his phone. He remained on the balcony, leaning on the railing and looking at the city lights spread out all around him, the rushing cars with their golden headlights and red tail lights like illuminated blood flowing, the city’s pulse. How many people out there in that city were just like his teammates, terrified of song-eaters, the beautiful women who moved in the night, seeking eternal life at the expense of others’ lives?

How many people were like him, ordinary people trying to live quiet, ordinary, honorable lives, always biting back the dull ache of song-thirst, always saying nothing whenever someone spoke of the soul-suckers, the monsters, the inhuman who deserved to die just for being?

Minhyuk closed his eyes and sighed. He’d never taken a life. He’d never hurt anyone with his song-eater gifts. Though his silence about his true identity was dishonest, he wasn’t silent just for himself; millions of other song-eaters worldwide depended on this shared dishonesty to survive. He had to agree with the superstitions, help perpetuate them, so his kind could survive and thrive.

_Song-eaters are beautiful women. Song-eaters cannot sing._

Minhyuk opened his eyes and shook himself out. He headed back into the dorm. Eunwoo, Jinwoo, and Bin had finished the dishes, and they were gathered in the den with Myungjun and Sanha, taking turns playing some kind of racing game against each other. They barely noticed him as he slipped past them and headed for his room. 

As he lay in the darkness, he considered the irony of his situation: he’d chosen a life that involved endless attention and media scrutiny, but as a result he was invisible, unnoticed, forgettable. To most of the world, he was Rocky, Astro’s main dancer and lead rapper.

To almost nobody, he was Park Minhyuk, innocent song-eater.

* * *

The only good thing about the pre-recording for the broadcast stage was that, for once, it wasn’t taking place in the middle of the night. Minhyuk could roll out of bed at a normal time, head to the shop - where Solah-noona was still absent - and get made up, then assemble with his teammates to head over to the broadcast station where they’d greet the press before they headed inside. With everything that was going on, fans were still allowed to gather outside the broadcast station to see their favorite idols, but all of the performers were under strict orders not to sing. Sometimes Minhyuk and his teammates would do a bit of choreo on demand for the fans, one of them humming or snapping to keep the beat for the rest of the team, but where their anniversary song was a ballad with no choreo, all they had to do was bow and wave and maybe flirt with a camera for a second before they headed inside.

If security at the last broadcast station had been amped up, at this station it had been taken to eleven. There was zero female staff from the station itself wherever they went; the only females Minhyuk saw were stylists and makeup artists for other teams or other artists themselves, and even those women had probably been vetted for their singing ability before they’d been allowed to come to the station.

After that conversation with his mother, Minhyuk was on high alert, keeping an eye out for every woman who passed, whether she was wearing silver jewelry, and what kind. It was easy to spot the Songbirds, even though they moved quietly and unobtrusively, dressed in sleek black, expressions blank and alert. Manager led them straight to their assigned dressing room - one or more of them would probably pose for pictures at the door, showing off their name on it on the little computer-printed sign - and then it was time to get ready for the dry rehearsal.

Minhyuk changed into his costume first, submitted himself to hair and makeup. Once he was all made up, he went to the door, intent on finding a place to warm up his voice and meditate a little bit.

“Buddy system,” Jinwoo reminded him from one of the makeup chairs.

Minhyuk paused. “Right. Sorry, hyung.”

“I’ll be finished soon,” Eunwoo said, from the other makeup chair.

Minhyuk nodded and sank down on one of the couches. He hadn’t managed to speak to Myungjun alone yet that day. When they had a group schedule like this, finding time alone was hard but not impossible, but Myungjun had been spending all of his time with - oh. Bin. His partner for the buddy system. Minhyuk resisted the urge to send another text message Myungjun’s way. He’d sent him a good morning, of course, because that was expected, that was what couples did, but there had been no response. Either Myungjun hadn’t read the message at all, or he’d turned off the read-receipts on his phone. Minhyuk did his best not to watch Myungjun constantly, because the others would notice if he stared.

“Ready to go get some fresh air?” Eunwoo asked, standing in front of Minhyuk.

“Born ready. Thanks, hyung.” Minhyuk bounced to his feet. Eunwoo would probably take Minhyuk’s excess energy as stage nerves, which never went away no matter how many times they performed.

“Make sure you have your phones on you,” Jinwoo called after them, and was immediately distracted by Sanha trying to wrestle him.

Eunwoo and Minhyuk both patted themselves down, nodded at each other, and headed out the door.

It was natural to fall into line behind Eunwoo, as he was taller and also more recognizable and almost preternaturally handsome. Strangers were more likely to give way for him, plus he could better see where they were going. They were halfway to the stairwell that had windows that opened onto an alley where they’d be less likely to be spotted by photographers if they stuck their heads out when several girls in bright sequined mini-skirts and crop tops stopped them.

“Eunwoo-ssi,” their leader said. She was tall and slender and curvy.

Eunwoo and Minhyuk bowed to her.

“Jihyo-ssi,” Eunwoo said politely.

She looked him up and down not with admiration or interest but contempt. While Minhyuk wasn’t naive enough to think every girl who looked at Eunwoo would be charmed, he didn’t think Eunwoo had done anything to this girl to warrant such a reaction. He shifted closer, ready to defend his teammate.

“I suppose since your team is minor your company is entrusting security to you,” Jihyo said.

The girls with her exchanged knowing looks.

Eunwoo said, “We all do our best to remain aware and maintain our own safety. It would be unwise for any of us to let our guard down under the circumstances.”

One of the other girls craned her neck to peer at Eunwoo from over Jihyo’s shoulder. “Well, at least you have excellent taste in jewelry. Though I suppose being from the House of Cha has its advantages.”

Minhyuk spoke up. “Has your company retained a Songbird for your team’s security?”

Jihyo eyed him. “Of course they have.”

“Strange,” Minhyuk said, without looking away from her, “I don’t see her around. She must be guarding the main vocalist, or perhaps the main rapper?”

Jihyo sucked in a sharp breath. She narrowed her eyes. “I don’t need a Songbird to keep me safe, because -”

Eunwoo said, “Because you are neither the main vocalist nor the main rapper, correct?” There was a certain pointedness to his tone that made Jihyo flush an angry, dull red, but she nodded.

Minhyuk said, “Please excuse us.” As Eunwoo hadn’t addressed Jihyo as sunbae, Minhyuk figured he could safely assume she was a hoobae. “We were just going to get some fresh air before we perform. Break a leg.” 

He stepped around Eunwoo and headed for the door to the stairwell.

Behind him, Jihyo made a strangled noise, but then Eunwoo was explaining that in English the phrase was used to wish a performer good luck on stage, and then he was following Minhyuk down the stairs to the nearest landing with a window.

“Sorry, hyung,” Minhyuk said. “I didn’t mean to be rude. I just -”

Eunwoo looked amused. “It could have been worse. Much, much worse.”

“Why was she so cruel to you?”

“Because,” Eunwoo said, “I’m prettier than her.”

Minhyuk couldn’t help it - he burst out laughing. “Hyung!”

Eunwoo would never dare say anything like that on camera or where he might be overheard, but he was always painfully aware of his looks.

“You were quick on your feet, though. Why aren’t you that quick during interviews?”

“Sometimes I am.” Minhyuk shrugged. He wasn’t sure how to explain that when it came to defending his teammates, his brothers, he would always be quicker and sharper than people expected.

Eunwoo unlatched the window and pushed it open, and they both stuck their heads out, took deep breaths. The camaraderie of the two of them breathing in silence was comforting. Some of the tension started to fall away from Minhyuk’s shoulders, and he rolled his neck gently.

“If a song-eater were to attack us, what would you do?” Eunwoo asked.

“I’ve never fought a song-eater before. I don’t have a specific plan. But I’d fight.”

“Would you kill her?”

Minhyuk sucked in a breath, mind spinning. Could he kill another of his own kind in cold blood? “Is it possible for me to kill a song-eater? Without Songbird weapons.”

Eunwoo made a thoughtful sound. “Of course. Song-eaters have been around longer than Songbirds.”

“What about you? What would you do?” Minhyuk glanced at his teammate sidelong.

Eunwoo reached up, toyed with the silver chain at his throat. “I’d fight her,” he said. “And I’d kill her.”

Minhyuk swallowed hard. “You really think you could kill another living being like that?”

“Yes, I could.”

“We couldn’t even kill a cicada the time one got into the office.” Minhyuk kept his tone light, but tension was creeping back into his limbs.

“A cicada is innocent. A song-eater is a monster, a parasite that feeds on innocent humans, a vile creature that steals another’s life force for its own.” Eunwoo’s tone was calm and matter-of-fact, like he was reciting out of a textbook.

His words struck Minhyuk to the core. For a moment he was a child on the edge of the playground at kindergarten again, listening to his classmates cheer for the news about the capture and execution of a song-eater who’d allegedly killed a child at an elementary school in a nearby town. He was frozen as they chanted _monster!_ and _die!_ over and over again. Tears rose in his eyes, and he blinked them back furiously. 

Eunwoo glanced at him. “Don’t you agree?”

Before Minhyuk was able to choke out an answer, they were interrupted by footsteps on the stairs. They both turned and straightened up, ready to greet strangers politely, but it was the rest of their team.

“See? I told you they’d be here,” Bin said.

“Do they need us onstage already?” Eunwoo asked. He fished his cellphone out of his pocket. “I didn’t think I missed any messages.”

Bin smiled and slung an arm around Eunwoo’s shoulders. “No, we just came for some fresh air, too. And to make sure people are abiding by the buddy system. Even though this place is crawling with Songbirds, we need to look after ourselves, right?”

Minhyuk slid to one side so Bin could stand with Eunwoo. Myungjun, Jinwoo, and Sanha remained further up the stairs.

“If anyone else wants some fresh air, I think I’ve had my fill,” Minhyuk said.

“As if air is filling.” Sanha’s sarcastic response was tempered by his eager expression as he bounded down the stairs three at a time - damn him and his long, long legs - and wriggled between Bin and Minhyuk, sticking his head out the window and looking like a dog poking his head out of a car on a nice ride.

Jinwoo glanced at Myungjun, who nodded, and they both started down the stairs as well.

Minhyuk heard the click-clack of fancy heels first, and he turned, searching for the sound moments before the others reacted.

“Eunwoo-ya! I didn’t know you’d be on this show today.” Yoona stood at the top of the stairs, dazzling in a sequined mini-dress. Compared to Jihyo and her teammates, who’d been sexy-cute, Yoona looked like a million dollars. She was flanked by the same Songbird who’d been at the shop with her the other day, as well as a couple of girls from a girl group who Minhyuk had seen at shows before but never been introduced to.

Eunwoo bowed politely. “Hello, noona. It’s a pleasure to see you today.”

Minhyuk and the others shifted automatically, moving closer to Eunwoo, wary and protective. There would be no scandals arising from this meeting between the nation’s it girl and the nation’s face genius. His entire team was present for the whole conversation.

“You remember Bomi, yes?” Yoona nodded at her Songbird.

Eunwoo inclined his head politely. “Good to see you again, noonim.”

“You know Dohee and Soohyang?” Yoona gestured to the two younger girls with her.

“We have never been introduced,” Eunwoo said. “These are my teammates - our leader Jinjin, our main vocalist and eldest MJ, our center Moonbin, our main dancer Rocky, and our maknae Sanha.”

Each of them bowed as they were introduced. 

“We should talk privately,” Yoona said.

Eunwoo said, “For our safety as a team, we have a buddy system.”

“Safety?” Yoona echoed.

“From song-eaters,” Bin clarified, and slung his arm around Eunwoo’s shoulders again even though he wasn’t technically Eunwoo’s buddy. “Since we don’t have a Songbird of our own.”

Yoona laughed. Her laugh was pretty and musical, like Myungjun’s, and Minhyuk swallowed down the song-thirst that surged in him unexpectedly.

“If only your teammates knew, they would all claim you as their buddy,” Yoona said. She tilted her head. “I know you’re Cha Eunsong’s firstborn, but being who and what you are, I thought you might be interested in a different way of doing things.”

“I’m afraid I don’t quite follow,” Eunwoo said.

Bin’s arm around his shoulders tightened.

Yoona said, “Some of us Songbirds believe that, to better protect humanity, we should be open about who we are and what we can do, and we should help educate ordinary citizens so they can protect themselves.”

Minhyuk’s heart stopped.

_Some of us Songbirds._


	6. Chapter 6

Minhyuk remembered that conversation on the balcony at the shop, about how Bin suspected Yoona was a Songbird and maybe Eunwoo was too, some kind of rare male Songbird. Bin had been right.

Minhyuk’s heart restarted, beating rapidly, his pulse rising as he tried to fight down the panic that was surging in him in place of song-thirst.

Eunwoo said, “I am still my mother’s son.”

Yoona tilted her head. “And yet your stage name is Eunwoo, after your mother’s wished-for daughter.”

Bin yanked Eunwoo in tighter so they were practically glued together.

“I’d appreciate it, sunbaenim, if we didn’t meet like this again. My team doesn’t deserve any unnecessary scandal.” Eunwoo’s tone was stiff and formal and cold.

Yoona laughed again. “I understand, Cha Eunwoo. But if you ever change your mind, you have my number.” To Soohyang and Dohee she said, “Come on, girls.”

They walked away, Bomi trailing behind them.

As soon as they were out of earshot, Jinwoo turned to Eunwoo. “You have her number?”

“She gave it to me,” Eunwoo said.

Jinwoo swallowed hard. “Do you ever intend on using it?”

“No,” Eunwoo said.

“Then delete it. Now.”

Jinwoo rarely spoke like that, low and fast and solemn, but he was their leader, and when he spoke like that, they knew he was serious.

Eunwoo nodded and started to unlock his phone, but then Jinwoo’s phone buzzed.

He checked it immediately. “We have to get back to the green room. Come on.”

Everyone was tense, because a scandal involving Yoona or even less popular female idols like Soohyang and Dohee, especially with Eunwoo, who was the face of the group, could be disastrous for them. 

“It’s a good thing we have a buddy system,” Myungjun said. “It should cut down on allegations of scandals, too.”

Jinwoo nodded. “Remember, everyone, stick together.”

Minhyuk nodded numbly. He was supposed to stick with Eunwoo, who was a Songbird. Minhyuk was surrounded by Songbirds. If boys could also be Songbirds, _anyone_ could be a Songbird. Maybe it was a lie, that all Songbirds were trained singers. Wouldn’t it be safer for Songbirds to be people who couldn’t sing? 

Astro had enough seniority as a team that they had their own dressing room now, but every time Minhyuk saw another team go by with boys dripping with silver jewelry, his stomach rolled. No. He had to warm up his voice, make sure he wasn’t tense, because for this song he was singing as well as rapping.

“Don’t overdo it for the dry rehearsal,” Jinwoo said as they shrugged into their name bibs.

Since this song didn’t have any choreo and they’d be in fixed positions at their mic stands, the camera operators would have a much easier time keeping track of them for the fan cam shoots. Minhyuk followed his teammates out onto the stage. 

They bowed and greeted the camera team and staff writers and producers, promised to work hard. They took their places. They marked where the cameras were, so they’d know where to look and smile when the main camera was on them (the red light, always look for the red light). Through it all, Minhyuk was on autopilot. As a trained performer, he could do what he had to to carry his weight in a song even if he wasn’t in it a hundred percent. That this song had no choreo was a small mercy, so he could stand still and keep his head down when it wasn’t his part.

Every time he went to search for the red camera light, he realized he was searching for flashes of silver jewelry instead.

Those words from his childhood ran through his head on a slow, inexorable loop.

_Deny, deny, deny, and if they refuse to believe, die._

Minhyuk couldn’t decide if it would be better or worse, to let Eunwoo be the one to kill him if the time came.

After the rehearsal, they assembled at the front of the stage to get feedback from the PD, who told them everything went well, and they bowed and thanked the crew and retreated from the stage so the next team could have their dry rehearsal.

It was Eunwoo who said, “I need air again.”

Minhyuk hesitated, but Jinwoo cast him a pointed look, and he said, “Don’t forget your phones.”

Eunwoo patted his pocket to show he had his phone, spun on his heel, and plunged through the crowd. Minhyuk followed. His pulse roared in his ears. Eunwoo had silver rings and a bracelet, all on his left hand. If things became dire, as long as Minhyuk could control Eunwoo’s left hand, he’d be safe.

Eunwoo headed for a different stairwell from last time, and Minhyuk followed him. Eunwoo shoved the door open loudly and thundered down the stairs. Minhyuk stayed on his heels, the sound of Eunwoo’s footfalls drowning out Minhyuk’s own heartbeat roaring in his head. They rounded the bend on the landing and Eunwoo came up short. Minhyuk’s superhuman - supermonster - reflexes saved him from crashing into Eunwoo’s back and sending him toppling down the stairs.

“Eomma,” Eunwoo said.

Minhyuk peeked around Eunwoo instinctively and saw - Eunwoo’s mother, plus Jihyo and her friends from earlier and a bunch of other idol girls and Songbirds in black uniforms.

Usually Eunwoo’s mother greeted him with a sweet smile and a warm embrace, but today she had no smile. Anyone who saw Eunwoo’s mother knew where he got his beauty from. And the ice in his expression. When he wasn’t smiling, he looked like his mother looked just now, cold and unfeeling.

“I’m not here as your mother,” she said. 

Eunwoo bowed deeply and said, “Commander Cha.”

Minhyuk bowed reflexively as well.

Eunwoo’s mother peered at him. “Who’s that with you?”

“Minhyuk-ah,” Eunwoo said.

Minhyuk said, “Good morning, Eomoni,” as politely as he could muster, because Eunwoo’s sweet, smiling mother was a Songbird commander.

“We’re in the middle of official business. You two should find somewhere else to be,” Eunwoo’s mother said.

Official Songbird business. Wasn’t Eunwoo a Songbird? Yoona, Minhyuk saw, was in the crowd, along with her Songbird Bomi, and the two girls Soohyang and Dohee.

Eunwoo bowed again, much more deeply than a son usually bowed to his own mother, and said, “Yes, Commander.” He grabbed Minhyuk’s wrist and dragged him back up the stairs.

Minhyuk stumbled after him, his heart still racing, dizzy from the sudden turn of events.

“Air,” Eunwoo said. “We need fresh air. Do you know how to get to the roof?”

Minhyuk shook his head.

Jinwoo and Manager appeared in front of them.

Manager looked frazzled. “There you are! What’s this about you having some kind of secret meeting with Yoona?”

“It wasn’t a secret,” Eunwoo said automatically. “She had a couple of younger idols with her, maybe ones she mentors? And the rest of the team was with me.”

“She’s _Yoona._ She always has a thousand people around her -”

“It was Songbird business,” Eunwoo said.

Manager rocked back on his heels. “Songbird -? Yoona?” 

Eunwoo said, “You know we don’t reveal our identities frivolously.”

Manager sighed. “Come on. Both of you.” He beckoned to Jinwoo as well, spun on his heel, and headed for a side room.

“Go back to the green room,” Jinwoo told Minhyuk.

He nodded and obeyed, unthinking.

“Was Manager very angry?” Sanha asked, pouncing on Minhyuk as soon as he stepped through the door.

“Of course he was angry. Yoona gets so much attention,” Myungjun said absently. He was sitting on one of the chairs, legs crossed at the knee, leaning his elbow on his thigh and reading something on his phone.

Minhyuk wanted to curl up beside Myungjun and close his eyes and shut out the world. Instead he swallowed hard and looked at Sanha. “I think Manager was less angry when Eunwoo said Yoona was talking to him about Songbird business.”

Bin’s gaze darkened. “So Eunwoo really is a Songbird.”

Minhyuk hunched his shoulders. “I guess so? As much as a boy can be a Songbird.” He was too jittery, nerves raw from that encounter with Eunwoo’s mother.

The other two towed him across the room toward the makeup tables. Their stylists were taking a break. Several more teams had to do their dry rehearsals before actual filming started, and while the team before them was performing, the stylists would touch up their makeup and hair. Till then -

“What else did Eunwoo say about being a Songbird?” Bin asked.

Minhyuk shrugged. “Not a lot. Manager wanted to speak to Jinwoo and Eunwoo privately, so.”

“Yoona’s definitely a Songbird too, then.” Sanha’s eyes were wide. Then he nudged Bin. “That rumor you heard, about how some girls from girl groups are Songbirds. The girls with Yoona - you think they were Songbirds too?”

Bin nodded. “So if Eunwoo is a Songbird, was trained to be one, anyone could be a Songbird with training. Idol girls, idol boys, all kinds of ordinary people.”

Terror started to claw at the edge of Minhyuk’s consciousness. Bin wasn’t wrong. Literally anyone could be a Songbird. Maybe Minhyuk’s teammates would be horrified if they knew anyone could be a song-eater, but Minhyuk was pretty sure Songbirds, on average, killed way more people than song-eaters did. Not that most people considered song-eaters human, let alone people. Minhyuk swallowed hard, forced himself to take a deep breath. No. He had to keep cool and calm. Even if Songbirds could be male as well as female, they were still convinced song-eaters could only be female. And beautiful. And unable to sing. Minhyuk did not have the hubris to call himself beautiful, but he could certainly sing, and he definitely wasn’t female.

“So do you think Eunwoo wears magic Songbird jewelry?” Sanha asked.

“He must,” Bin said. “Why? Do you know what it looks like?” 

Sanha bit his lip, hesitated. He leaned in and cleared his throat.

Bin and Minhyuk leaned in closer automatically.

“Haven’t you noticed that Myungjun wears a necklace that looks just like Eunwoo’s bracelet?” Sanha kept his voice low.

Bin and Minhyuk both automatically glanced at Myungjun, but Sanha hissed and swatted at them.

“Don’t make it so obvious! But what if it’s a Songbird weapon? Myungjun said he became an idol so he could get revenge for his older sister. He could be a trained Songbird too, right? Hunting song-eaters himself in his spare time.”

Minhyuk’s throat closed.

Bin winced. “You think Eunwoo’s been hunting song-eaters in his spare time?”

Sanha nodded.

“But what spare time? This is Eunwoo we’re talking about.” Bin shook his head.

After a moment’s consideration, Sanha nodded and conceded the point. “Okay, fine, but what about Myungjun-hyung? He has _some_ spare time.”

“He does,” Minhyuk said slowly, when Sanha cast him a questioning look.

“What if Myungjun isn’t a trained Songbird?” Bin asked. “What if he just has a Songbird weapon but doesn’t really know how to use it and he’s been putting himself in crazy danger trying to hunt song-eaters on his own?” He bit his lip.

Sanha and Minhyuk cast looks at the still-distracted Myungjun.

“We can’t let him try to fight a song-eater on his own,” Minhyuk said. “Especially if he’s already hot-headed and emotional going into a fight. He -” Minhyuk swallowed hard. “He wouldn’t survive.”

“But what if he _is_ trained?” Sanha asked.

“Then I’m the lucky one in our buddy system,” Bin said.

Sanha glanced at Myungjun again. “Should we ask him? Now that we know Eunwoo is a real Songbird, it’s okay for us to know who’s a Songbird, right? So we can just ask Myungjun.”

“Ask me what?” 

The three of them whipped around, fumbling for responses, but Manager swept into the room, Jinwoo and Eunwoo on his heels.

“You’re up next,” Manager said.

Minhyuk nodded and plopped down in one of the makeup chairs when the stylist beckoned to him. Beneath the din of the hair dryer and the gentle sweep of the makeup brushes, he could get himself back together. He was a professional. They were performing their anniversary song, which was a gift for their fans. After all the years of love and support he’d received from the fans, he had to do his best for them. Without them, he’d be out of a job.

Once the stylists were finished with him, he opened his eyes and stood up, shook himself out. Sanha immediately took his spot.

Minhyuk cast about for somewhere else to sit. He pushed some backpacks and jackets aside and plopped down on the little loveseat. Time to warm up his voice again. 

A knee nudged his.

Minhyuk looked up, and Myungjun stood beside him. Sliding over to make room for him was almost instinctive. Myungjun nodded at him, lips curved in the faintest smile, and the anxiety and fear that had been weighing down on Minhyuk’s shoulders fell away. Guilt curled through him, but - finally. Myungjun was beside him again. Minhyuk smiled back, and it was a simple matter, to tune his voice to Myungjun’s, harmonize with him, since Myungjun’s range went the highest of all of theirs.

For one second, Minhyuk was tempted to reach out and curl his fingers through Myungjun’s, but he didn’t dare. Even though they were teammates and had held hands plenty of times, this time would be different, and if the others saw them, they’d know something was up.

Because they were a team of professionals, the stylists had everyone on the team ready to hit the stage right as an AD came to summon them to the stage.

Myungjun was farther ahead in the line than Minhyuk, but as they slid into their places on the side of the stage, Minhyuk couldn’t help but hold himself a little taller. Once he was on the stage, he’d focus on his teammates and the little red light on the camera. As long as he performed well and was focused, he’d be safe. Other people’s silver jewelry didn’t matter.

Not that he didn’t notice every single person who wore something bigger than a plain ring, but -

Minhyuk trotted up onto the stage, stood with his teammates, bowed to the crew and greeted them. Then he took his spot at his mic, sucked in a deep breath.

He’d do this right.

* * *

The performance went smoothly, enough that they didn’t have to re-shoot, so they bowed and thanked the crew and then trotted off the stage. They weren’t free to leave just yet, though. They’d have to film the finale with all the other artists and teams on the stage with the MCs, but till then they could relax a little.

“We should order food,” Bin said. “What do we want?”

Jinwoo hummed thoughtfully. “Yukhoe bibimbap.”

“Kimbap,” Minhyuk said.

Myungjun added, “But with no cucumber, right?” He grinned at Minhyuk, who managed a brief smile in return. 

“What do you have against cucumber?” Sanha shook his head.

Bin said, “It’s a Minhyuk thing.”

“I don’t hate all cucumber, I just don’t like it on my kimbap.” Minhyuk shrugged.

“I want barbecued beef,” Eunwoo said.

“Didn't you have beef with breakfast? And didn’t you say something about getting beef for dinner? Don’t you feel bad for cows?” Myungjun asked.

Eunwoo laughed, startled. “What?”

“I want sushi,” Myungjun said.

Bin made a face. He didn’t like fish. 

“Excuse me, sunbaenim?”

The six of them turned.

The two girls who’d been with Yoona earlier were standing in the corridor.

“Soohyang-ssi, Dohee-ssi, hello.” Eunwoo bowed politely. Of course he remembered their names after one brief encounter.

Soohyang blushed and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, then shuffled forward. “I was just curious about - about your weapons. I was wondering if I could see…? One of the other girls mentioned that you have actual divine silver.”

Eunwoo stiffened, but then Bin said, “It’s fine. All of us know.”

“Know what?” Myungjun asked, just as Eunwoo held his hand out.

Soohyang and Dohee crowded close.

“Eunwoo is a Songbird,” Sanha whispered to Myungjun.

Myungjun’s eyes went wide for a moment, but then they narrowed, his expression calculating.

“Wow,” Dohee said. “You carry all of those?”

Eunwoo nodded. “I like to be prepared.”

Dohee and Soohyang held out their hands. They both had silver bracelets and rings, but also silver earrings and necklaces. Which pieces were regular jewelry, and which ones were Songbird weapons? Obviously the girls knew, but was there some way for someone else to tell?

Minhyuk wanted to ask, but he was also afraid the answer might involve showing off an actual weapon, which he didn’t think he could handle. 

Eunwoo, Soohyang, and Dohee had a baffling conversation that was all oblique references to purity, infusion levels, speed, strength, flexibility, responsive security, and other words Minhyuk knew the meaning of but couldn’t understand at all in this context.

Soohyang said, “How many have you killed? I’ve only managed a couple dozen or so. Dohee and I hunt as a pair, so we don’t keep very strict track, but I’ve heard, in the Cha Clan, that you always keep count.”

Minhyuk wasn’t the only one of his teammates who was looking at Eunwoo, waiting to hear the answer, but he was probably the only one afraid of it.

“I’ve participated in a total of one-hundred and three hunts, but I’ve only made seventy-six solo kills,” Eunwoo said.

Dohee and Soohyang clapped their hands over their mouths.

 _“Daebak,”_ Dohee said. “How old were you when you started hunting?”

“Ten,” Eunwoo said.

Soohyang blinked. “I thought the minimum age was twelve.”

Minhyuk wanted to throw up.

“It’s different, with the Cha Clan,” Eunwoo said.

“So did your sister start that young too?” Dohee asked.

“I have a younger brother. He wasn’t interested in Songbird training.” Eunwoo’s expression had turned stiff again.

Bin looked at Jinwoo, and Jinwoo said, “Please pardon us, but we have an appointment back in our green room.”

Soohyang and Dohee nodded and bowed.

“Of course,” Dohee said.

“It was so nice to be able to talk to you, sunbaenim,” Sohyang added.

She looked star-struck the way most girls looked star-struck over Eunwoo, but it wasn’t because he was handsome and famous and popular. It was because he’d single-handedly slaughtered seventy-six of Minhyuk’s kind.

It was Sanha who slid past the girls, breaking the little social bubble they’d formed.

Back in the green room, Myungjun asked, “What appointment?”

“With lunch,” Jinwoo said. He dug his phone out of his pocket. “All right. Where are we ordering from?”

Bin and Sanha crowded around him immediately, trying to talk over each other to ensure that Jinwoo ordered from their favorite restaurants.

Myungjun slid closer to Eunwoo. “You’re really a Songbird, then? Have all the same Songbird training as the women in black who we keep seeing?”

Eunwoo closed his eyes and sighed, nodded. “Yes. I - sorry. All my life, I’ve been taught not to really talk about it.”

“Could you help me track down the song-eater who killed my sister?”

Eunwoo opened his eyes. “How do you know that song-eater isn’t already dead, killed long ago by another Songbird?”

“I don’t,” Myungjun said. “Either way, I want to find out.”

Eunwoo reached out, tapped Myungjun’s silver necklace. “Do you know how to use that properly?”

“I know enough.” Myungjun’s gaze was steely.

“Minhyuk-ah, what do you want to eat?” Jinwoo asked.

Minhyuk’s stomach turned at the thought of food. “I’m not very hungry,” he said.

Jinwoo turned to him, frowning. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah, I’m just not hungry right now.” Minhyuk tried for a smile, but judging by the way Jinwoo’s brow furrowed, he’d failed.

Eunwoo said, “Hunts are handled on a clan-by-clan basis, so there’s no centralized record system. My clan has excellent record-keeping, but it’s not especially large and by no means handles the majority of the hunts in this area. I can reach out to other clans and ask to see their records, but not every clan keeps detailed records, if any beyond kill counts for individual Songbirds.” His tone was calm, confident.

“What hunts?” Jinwoo asked. He put a tentative hand on Myungjun’s arm. “Hyung, you aren’t planning on going on a song-eater hunt, are you? You’re not trained for it.”

“I want to find the song-eater who killed my sister.” Myungjun shifted ever so slightly, dislodging Jinwoo’s hand in the process.

“Do you know which clan handled the hunt for her killer?” Eunwoo asked, ignoring Jinwoo’s interruption.

Myungjun shook his head. “I was so young at the time. I only know they were unsuccessful. Perhaps my parents know, but I haven’t ever dared to ask.” 

Eunwoo hummed thoughtfully. “I could send for the records of all the clans who regularly patrolled the area around the crime scene at the time the incident occurred, but it would take a long time.”

That the team didn’t have much time to spend on an investigation went unspoken. 

It was Sanha who said, “We’ll help if we can.”

Myungjun and Eunwoo turned to him, startled. Bin, Jinwoo, and Sanha were watching the two of them, expressions solemn.

“We can’t hunt, obviously,” Sanha said, “but we can help Eunwoo-hyung look through records. If we’re allowed to see them?”

Judging by the way Eunwoo pressed his lips into a thin line, no one but Songbirds were allowed to look at Songbird records. Sanha widened his eyes a little, which made Eunwoo snort and roll his eyes. To Minhyuk’s surprise, Bin reached out and put a hand on Eunwoo’s shoulder.

“Let us help,” he said. “Come on. Myungjun-hyung has been trying to accomplish this all his life. If we all pitch in and help, he’s less likely to run off and try to hunt on his own, right?”

“Yah!” Myungjun protested, but it was half-hearted.

“I thought your lifelong dream was to be in a musical,” Jinwoo said.

“It is,” Myungjun said. “Revenge isn’t a dream. It’s a necessity. For my family.”

Minhyuk felt his head start to spin. He forced himself to take several deep breaths. Then he looked at Eunwoo. “Let us help. Please. For Myungjun’s sake.”

The sudden burst of warmth in Myungjun’s gaze when he looked at Minhyuk made him want to curl up in a ball and not move for a very long time, but Eunwoo sighed. 

“I’ll do what I can. Just - it won’t be easy.”

“We’re not afraid of hard work,” Sanha said.

Eunwoo looked at Jinwoo, who sighed heavily and bowed his head, deep in thought.

Sanha tugged lightly at Jinwoo’s sleeve. “Hyung, please.”

Minhyuk swallowed hard and added, “Please.”

Helping his teammates hunt one of his own kind was reprehensible, but losing Myungjun to his own inexperience if he tried to hunt on his own would be worse. 

Jinwoo lifted his head and looked right at Myungjun. “We’ll all help. We’re a team no matter what we do. But promise me - no, not just me. Promise all of us that you won’t run off alone and try to do this on your own, all right?”

Myungjun nodded. “I promise.”

“I’ll do what I can,” Eunwoo said. 

“Thank you,” Myungjun said. 

“Don’t thank me yet,” Eunwoo said. “You’ll have to tell me everything you can remember about your sister’s death.”

“Later,” Jinwoo said. “We have to perform.”

Minhyuk closed his eyes and sank down into the nearest seat. Right. Perform. They had to look cute and cheerful for the finale. A hand on his arm startled him.

“Are you all right?” Jinwoo said.

“Yeah. Just - today has been a lot.”

Jinwoo searched Minhyuk’s face. For all that the others sometimes mocked him for talking slow and being a bit slow sometimes, he was incisively brilliant when it came to other people, even if he kept quiet most of the time.

“I’m sure it’s been harder for you and Eunwoo,” Minhyuk began, but Jinwoo shook his head.

“Come on, eat up. Even if it’s just some plain rice, all right?”

Minhyuk nodded. He sat back while Jinwoo gathered the rest of the team around him and they hashed out a lunch order. Jinwoo called it in, and there was another round of hashing out how they were going to pay for it. Would they all take turns owing lunch to the rest of the team? They could pay Jinwoo back using their phones if he paid now.

It was Eunwoo who reached into his pocket and pulled out his own card, and somehow they all agreed to split the bill evenly no matter what everyone ate because, as Bin reminded everyone, there was no such thing as _your food._ Sanha was dispatched to track down Manager to ask what the delivery instructions would be.

Jinwoo and Eunwoo settled in to have a quiet, serious discussion, most likely about hunting song-eaters. Bin sat beside Eunwoo reading webtoons on his phone, seemingly ignoring the conversation but tuned to Eunwoo.

Myungjun settled onto the loveseat beside Minhyuk and rested his head on Minhyuk’s shoulder. Minhyuk closed his eyes and slid his arm around Myungjun’s shoulders, held him close. Even though Myungjun was older and was much stronger than people thought, Minhyuk was still the bigger and stronger of the two of them, especially since he was a song-eater.

“Are you all right?” Minhyuk asked, praying that Myungjun wouldn’t ask the same of him.

“A little bit better now,” Myungjun said.

Minhyuk tightened his arm around Myungjun’s shoulders. Having Myungjun close to him after what had felt like an eternity apart was a relief, even if everything else was spinning out of control.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [One & Only](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9T5QfvR3Kh0)


	7. Chapter 7

There was something terribly perverse about helping a Songbird hunt another song-eater, but when a stranger knocked on the door and handed Minhyuk a giant box of books, he accepted it and hauled it into the den. He hollered for the others to help, and half an hour later, there was a tower of boxes against the wall beside the television, and Eunwoo, Myungjun, and Jinwoo were making plans to divvy up the research burden so they could find useful information as quickly as possible.

“It’s going to be like being trainees all over again, isn’t it?” Sanha asked from the couch where he, Bin, and Minhyuk were waiting for their fate to be announced. “When they’d make schedules for our homework and our dance practice and our vocal practice.”

Bin sighed. “Probably.”

Minhyuk swallowed hard, wiped his clammy hands on his thighs. “Yeah, but it’s for Myungjun-hyung, so it’ll be worth it.”

He shouldn’t be doing this. Even if being a song-eater didn’t make him a monster, helping with a Songbird hunt certainly did. But when he closed his eyes, he remembered how Myungjun had caught him alone after they’d gone back to the dorms after the broadcast show, how he’d stepped into the circle of Minhyuk’s arms and rested his head on Minhyuk’s shoulder and whispered, 

“I’m sorry. I missed you. I promise I won’t push you away again.”

Minhyuk had whispered his own apology in return, and they’d kissed, slow and soft and sweet, and -

And Minhyuk told himself he wasn’t betraying his own kind. He was helping them. By working with Eunwoo and Myungjun on a hunt, he’d learn more about how Songbirds operated than any song-eater knew. He’d be able to help perpetuate some of the lies that allowed song-eaters like him and his mother and grandmother to live quiet, peaceful lives. And maybe he’d learn of new ways to protect his fellow song-eaters from the burning silver of the Songbirds’ magical weapons.

Sanha heaved himself up off the couch and opened one of the boxes, tentative. Civilians, as Eunwoo called them, were usually forbidden from having any close contact with the inner workings of Songbird operations. Minhyuk deeply suspected that Eunwoo acquiring all these records was on the sly, but then Yoona had mentioned that she and some other Songbirds - likely Soohyang and Dohee in those ranks - were interested in a different philosophy, one that afforded transparency to civilians, so he probably had help.

What kind of personal price would he pay for helping Myungjun like this, though? Best as Minhyuk could tell, Eunwoo’s mother didn’t subscribe to Yoona’s philosophy of being a Songbird. 

“Some of these books aren’t in Korean.” Sanha frowned and lifted out one leatherbound volume.

“Really?” Bin rose and went to peer over his shoulder at the gilded writing on the spine. “What language is that?”

Eunwoo glanced over. “The codex might have been foreign-purchased, but the ledger entries should be in Korean.”

Sanha eased the book open with the kind of care and reverence most fans used when opening album photobooks.

“This isn’t a ledger. It’s some kind of textbook?”

Eunwoo lifted his head sharply. “What?”

“I think that’s Greek,” Bin said. His dream was to visit Santorini. 

Eunwoo crossed the den and held out a hand. Sanha handed the book to him. 

“No, it’s Russian.” He flipped through the pages quickly. “Why would they send lore books? I asked for records.”

“Can you read Russian?” Bin asked.

“Of course,” Eunwoo said absently. 

Bin’s mouth fell open.

“Maybe, in addition to helping Myungjun, someone wants us to learn more about song-eaters in general,” Jinwoo said.

Minhyuk stared at the book in Eunwoo’s hands. This was his chance to learn what Songbirds really believed about his kind. If he could tell his mother and grandmother the details of how Songbirds spotted song-eaters, how many could he save?

“We don’t read Russian, though,” Bin said. “You can’t do all the reading for us.”

Eunwoo closed the book, mouth twisted into a thoughtful frown.

“We’ll be better able to help Myungjun-hyung if we know more about song-eaters and how to find them,” Sanha said.

It was easy to forget, sometimes, that he had parts of each of his hyungs in him, and he’d inherited Eunwoo’s dedication to study.

Minhyuk cleared his throat. “What about Papago? It can scan text and translate it, right? And if not, we could type the text into Papago and get a translation. Each of us could be responsible for a different language. Although it would be easier if we started with Korean textbooks, maybe?” He was impressed with how calm and even his voice was, because his heart was pounding so loud he was sure the others would hear it.

“My personal research journals would probably be more useful.” Eunwoo put the book back in the box. “Over the years I’ve done my best to compile the information scattered across many volumes into a single source. Often information is repeated in all the books. If there are contradictory statements, I’ve done my best to resolve them, but I’ve included notes to the sources to be safe. Also my journals are in Korean, so. I’ll send for them.”

Myungjun put a hand on Eunwoo’s shoulder. “Thank you.”

Eunwoo fixed him with a sharp look. “Remember, we may not find the answer you’re looking for, if any at all.”

“After all these years, something will be better than nothing,” Myungjun said. “If in the end we find nothing, at least I know we did our best.”

Eunwoo nodded. To Sanha, he said, “Go through the boxes and sort out the ledgers from the lore books, then organize the ledgers by date, starting from oldest to newest.”

“We’ll help,” Bin said, and Minhyuk nodded as well.

He rose and rolled up his sleeves and reached for the first box.

“But don’t forget,” Jinwoo said, just as Minhyuk managed to convince himself to touch the box full of books that were about eradicating Minhyuk and his mother and grandmother and everyone like them.

“We have our next comeback coming up. Let’s not get distracted.”

They all nodded.

Minhyuk took a deep breath and opened the box. He had ledgers, ranging from 1999 to last year. He was looking at lists of all the song-eaters who’d been killed for almost all the time he’d been alive. After another deep breath, Minhyuk reached into the box. He glanced over at Myungjun, who was speaking to Eunwoo and Jinwoo once more, and he picked up a book and flipped it open.

February 1999 to March 2000, it read, just inside the cover. The House of Cha.

“I’m making a 1999 pile over here,” Sanha said, beckoning. “I can’t believe some of these are older than me.”

 _“We’re_ all older than you,” Bin said, but he added a book to the 1999 pile.

* * *

They managed to get half of the boxes unpacked and organized before they had to head to the company to meet with their manager and the production team for their next album to finalize the details on the concept for the album art and the music video.

Even though all the tracks had been selected and were in pre-production, they needed to make sure everyone was on the same page for the visual aspect of the album. In a lot of ways, Sanha struggled the most with adapting to new concepts. He’d been barely out of middle school when the team debuted, and as the maknae he’d been expected to be baby-cute for the fans, with his braces and his curly hair and the blush painted on his still-round cheeks. Years later, he was a legal adult and had shouldered his fair share of adult responsibilities on the team, but fans still wanted him to be super cute and sweet. Others wanted him to be mature and sexy, and he often felt like he was being pulled in two directions.

Even though Minhyuk had only been in his first year of high school when the team debuted, he’d managed to escape being labeled as the cute one, because he wasn’t the maknae, and also he didn’t look as cute as Sanha, had more severe features, and during their pre-debut promotions he’d managed to build an image as the serious dancer, the junior choreographer, the martial artist. The team had come a long way, their album concepts maturing with them even though they’d done their best to retain the sound that was uniquely theirs, mostly in the way of Jinwoo’s deep-voiced smooth-flowing rap parts, Myungjun’s soaring vocals during the final chorus, and Bin, Eunwoo, and Sanha’s light, sweet pop vocals. Their previous comeback had been a departure from their usual aesthetics, much darker and edgier.

And now the production team wanted them to revisit their roots as a cute team. _Refreshing_ was the buzz-word the PR team always bandied about, but all of them knew - especially Sanha - that what everyone meant was _cute._

“Does this mean I’ll have to wear shorts again?” Myungjun asked.

Because he was one of the shortest and smallest on the team - Jinwoo was shorter but had a much broader, more solid build - when he wore shorts he looked even younger than Sanha.

On the opposite side of the conference table, the PR stylists exchanged looks.

“That’s a good idea,” one of them said, and jumped up, scribbled a note on the whiteboard.

Myungjun sighed. “That’s not what I meant. I’m not saying I _should._ I was just wondering.”

But the stylists had moved on.

Minhyuk reached out and covered Myungjun’s hand with his, squeezed gently.

The giant conference room was always kept just a bit too cold for comfort, which led to Minhyuk and his teammates bunching up close to share warmth while the chief PR executive paced back and forth and directed her marker-wielding minions.

“We’re calling it _power refreshing,”_ the chief PR minion said, her eyes alight with enthusiasm. “So you’ll mix your original refreshing energy with your more mature, masculine energy.”

Eunwoo’s expression turned contemplative.

“It makes sense,” Jinwoo offered. As the team’s leader, he was their spokesman with management, and he was also management’s liaison with the rest of the team when needed. “The title track has a really light, bright, almost airy instrumental arrangement, but the choreo is hard-hitting on the chorus. Despite that, the two styles work well together.”

“True,” Sanha said slowly.

“Eunwoo, of course, will have black hair. So will Sanha, but with blue highlights, because blue is a refreshing color,” a stylist said. She waggled a box of hair dye. “Myungjun will have black hair as well.”

“Really? I don’t think I’ve had black hair since...debut.” Myungjun reached up, smoothed a hand over his own hair absently.

“Well, since you’ll be doing that musical, you’ll need your natural hair color until we’re told otherwise,” another stylist said.

Myungjun’s mouth dropped open.

“Musical?” Minhyuk asked.

The stylists looked at each other, then at Manager. “Did no one tell him?”

Myungjun grabbed Minhyuk’s hand and squeezed. “Did I get the part?” He’d auditioned for a musical back before Christmas, had done a second audition a month ago.

“Yes,” Manager said. “We were going to talk about that while we worked out the schedule. We want the team to be able to participate in as many schedules as a whole unit whenever possible, but between Eunwoo’s new variety show and rehearsals for the musical, it will sometimes fall to the remaining four to keep things afloat.”

“Hang on,” Jinwoo said. “Myungjun got the part?”

“He and three others will be rotating performances of the lead role, yes,” Manager said.

Minhyuk threw his arms around Myungjun and hugged him. “Congratulations!”

Myungjun hugged him back, dazed.

The others piled on, hugging Myungjun as well.

“This is it,” jinwoo said softly. “Your dream come true.”

Myungjun nodded, sniffling a little. 

“Aw, hyung, don’t cry, you’ll make us cry,” Sanha protested.

Eunwoo handed Myungjun a tissue.

“Moving on,” a stylist said, “Jinwoo-ssi, you’ll be platinum white this comeback. At debut you were very pale blond. Such a pale color will remind fans of your debut days, but instead of cute, this will have a more mature look.”

Jinwoo nodded. “All right. Will I be coloring the tips like last time, or -?”

“No, we’ll stick to just the one color,” the stylist said. “Bin-ssi, your hair will be pale blue, to go with the refreshing theme and maintain the color palette from Sanha to Jinwoo.”

Bin winced. He wasn’t the only one who still had bad memories of the time he’d gone pale pink for their first full-length album. “Okay, but -”

“We’ve worked out some treatments to make it less harsh for you and your scalp,” the stylist assured him.

Bin glanced at Jinwoo. A wordless exchange passed between them. If Bin really wanted to object, Jinwoo would stand up for him.

The stylist continued. “Minhyuk-ssi, you’ll be pink.”

Minhyuk blinked. “Pardon?”

“Pink will be very cute,” the stylist said. “Given how you are so terrible at aegyo, this will help bring back the refreshing vibe from your debut.”

“Hey now,” Myungjun began, even though Minhyuk being bad at aegyo was neither a surprise nor disputed.

The PR minion held up a color wheel of tans, pale and dark blues, and their respective hair colors. The pink actually didn’t look bad.

“Okay,” Minhyuk said.

Jinwoo caught his eye. “Are you sure?”

Minhyuk nodded. “It will be something brand new for the fans, won’t it? Refreshing.”

Manager looked relieved that Minhyuk wasn’t going to put up much of a fight.

“Now, onto costume proposals…”

The meeting dragged on and on and on. There were few real disagreements with the production team, as Minhyuk and his teammates had learned to pick their battles, but the production team had a sense of what they were and weren’t willing to do as far as concepts and variety shows.

The company was pouring a lot of money into this comeback, especially since the senior boy group wasn’t renewing their contracts with the company. The team had a lot riding on their shoulders. Their comeback schedule would be grueling - multiple broadcast show appearances, multiple variety show appearances, some as individuals, some as a team. Between Eunwoo’s solo variety show schedule and Myungjun’s play rehearsals, they’d barely have time to breathe.

“But we’re going to get a win this time,” Manager said. “I can feel it.”

Jinwoo nodded. “That’s right. We’re going to get a win this time.”

The others nodded. Underneath the conference table, Myungjun clung to Minhyuk’s hand.

When the meeting finally ended, there was some debate about what to do.

“I’d like to go back to the dorms and start on that research,” Myungjun said.

“Until Eunwoo’s journals arrive, there’s probably not much we can do,” Jinwoo said. “We should do at least a couple of run-throughs of the choreography.”

The others agreed, so they headed to the locker room to change into workout clothes, and then they gathered in one of the practice rooms. They didn’t bother with turning on the camera, just turned on the music and ran through the choreography for their next single, and then the choreography for one of their previous singles, which they’d probably be expected to perform at their comeback showcase. Jinwoo kept an eye on them in the mirror even though by this point they didn’t really need the mirror to hold their formations properly, and after they finished the third song, he declared practice over.

“I’m heading back to the dorms,” he said, toweling himself off. “What about the rest of you?”

Everyone on the team jokingly referred to Jinwoo and Eunwoo as Mom and Dad, but Jinwoo was their leader and it was his responsibility to know where they were and what they were doing if management or someone else needed them, so they all did their best to make sure he was always informed as to their whereabouts and plans if they didn’t have schedules that day.

“I’m going to stay and work out,” Myungjun said. “Since I didn’t get to this morning.”

“Me too,” Minhyuk said.

Jinwoo nodded. “Since you two are fitness buddies now, right?”

Minhyuk nodded and smiled. “Yeah.”

“We should stay and work out, too,” Bin said. He nudged Sanha. “I can show you that new weight routine you were asking about, to build up your arms and shoulders more.”

Sanha nodded. “Okay. Sounds good. We can be workout buddies together!” He beamed at Myungjun.

Myungjun smiled back at him, though he caught Minhyuk’s eye after; Minhyuk wasn’t the only one who was a little miffed at potential alone time being invaded by other team members.

“This is my only chance to work out this week, so I’ll stay as well,” Eunwoo said.

Jinwoo eyed them. “Okay, fine. If the rest of you are staying -”

“Go, hyung, it’s fine,” Sanha said, his expression guileless, but that just made Jinwoo narrow his eyes.

“What are we doing first?”

“Cardio,” Minhyuk said, “since we’re already warmed up for it. Then basic PT for now.”

With everyone on the team staying, it somehow fell to Bin to lead the workout, which Minhyuk didn’t mind. For a little while, he could pretend that everything was normal, that he was an ordinary person doing mostly-ordinary things with his friends.

* * *

An hour and a half later, they were all sprawled on the floor of the practice room after having stretched out and cooled down.

“So I was thinking,” Myungjun said, “you should teach me how to fight a little.” This he directed at Minhyuk. 

“Me? Why?”

“In case I ever do run into a song-eater -”

Minhyuk sat bolt upright. “Hyung, no.”

Myungjun frowned and sat up as well. “But you have the most experience as a competition fighter.”

“Yes, a competition point-fighter,” Minhyuk said. “Where a ref stops the action as soon as a real hit lands. There are no refs with song-eaters. If you really wanted to learn to fight, Eunwoo-hyung would be your best choice as a teacher.”

Eunwoo pushed himself up. He looked alarmed. “Me? No. There’s almost zero chance of survival for a single person going up against an angry song-eater, trained or otherwise. I started training to fight when I was four and I would never dream of trying to take on a song-eater by myself. Even if I were fully armed and armored, the best I could hope for was to survive long enough for a full squadron to arrive and assist.”

“You said you had over seventy solo kills,” Myungjun said. 

Eunwoo tossed his head. “All that means is that I delivered a killing blow on a group hunt. Or used myself as bait and had the element of surprise on a very low-key solo hunt.”

“So you do hunt solo,” Myungjun said. 

“Only because I’ve trained my entire life. If you wanted to be able to hunt solo, you’d have to wait till you’d trained as many years as I have. I wasn’t allowed to hunt solo till I was twenty. Sixteen years of training led up to that first hunt.” Eunwoo’s expression was stark. 

“I have a pretty voice. I could be bait, and you could kill her,” Myungjun said. 

Eunwoo shook his head. “No. Absolutely not. I’m not going to train you to die.”

“Well, we all should have _some_ training,” Myungjun said. “Not just me, because I want to avenge my sister’s death. But every one of us idols should be able to, like you said, hold out long enough for help to arrive.”

Eunwoo knelt beside Myungjun, grasped his shoulders. “The only way to tell someone is a song-eater is to catch them during feeding or right after they’ve fed, which means they’re at their strongest. At their weakest, they’re twice as strong as us. When they’re freshly fed -”

“You’re not telling me anything we didn’t learn as trainees.” Myungjun shook Eunwoo’s hands off.

Eunwoo grabbed him again. _“Hyung._ You promised not to try to take on a song-eater by yourself.”

Minhyuk scrambled to kneel beside Myungjun as well. “Please. I know you have to do this for your family, but if something happens to you - you dying won’t bring your sister back.” That Minhyuk invoked Myungjun’s sister was treacherous, and guilt lurched in him as soon as the words fell from his lips, but the thought of losing Myungjun was too much.

Myungjun’s expression was stony.

Minhyuk said, softly, “Myungjunnie, please.”

Eunwoo cast him a sharp look. Minhyuk ducked his head, because addressing Myungjun like that sounded disrespectful, only Myungjun’s expression softened.

It was Jinwoo who said, “None of us should try to take on a song-eater alone. Ever. But Myungjun is right. We should have the skills we need to hold on long enough for help to arrive. What do you think, Eunwoo? Could you teach us?”

Minhyuk wondered just how skilled a Songbird Eunwoo was, because he’d never seen Eunwoo do forms or other similar martial arts drills, but then given Eunwoo’s schedule he rarely worked out with the others, so he could probably do combat drills all he wanted and no one on the team would know.

“Let me think on it,” Eunwoo said. “Minhyuk is a competent striker, and Sanha has some basic throwing skills, but in a fight against someone who has the strength and speed advantage, your best bet for survival would be grappling. Jujitsu, mostly.”

“Bin, Minhyuk, and Jinwoo are really good at ssireum,” Sanha pointed out. “Remember the time Minhyuk won even though he was underneath?”

“Ssireum also has a ref and your opponent is playing by rules,” Minhyuk said. 

“But you at least have some sense of how to keep your head cool in a fight,” Eunwoo said. “Like I said, I need to think over what would be best to teach you. You don’t have the time it takes to learn a lot of techniques, so your best bet is to master a few versatile techniques and also learn how to set them up.”

“Set them up?” Myungjun asked.

Minhyuk jabbed at Sanha’s ribs. Sanha yelped and swatted at his hand. Minhyuk jabbed again. Sanha managed a proper block this time. Minhyuk jabbed again, going for the other side of Sanha’s torso. A jabbing and blocking war ensued - and Sanha didn’t even try to block when Minhyuk swatted at his head.

“Yah!” Sanha protested.

“I didn’t hit you that hard,” Minhyuk said, but Sanha pouted for a moment before he rolled his eyes and sat back on his haunches.

“Minhyuk set up Sanha for a head shot,” Eunwoo said. “He kept attacking the same spot over and over again so Sanha made sure he was ready to defend that spot, and he left his head open.”

“That seems easy,” Myungjun said.

Eunwoo shook his head. “Don’t forget, your opponent will be trying to set you up too.”

Myungjun said, “I still want to learn.”

“We should all learn together, and then we can practice together,” Jinwoo said. “We can dedicate some of our workout time to self-defense.”

“But first, let’s go home and wash up and get some food.” Bin fluttered his eyelashes hopefully, and the tension in the room dissipated.

“We should feed Bin before he starves to death,” Jinwoo said with mock-solemnity, and picked himself up off the floor.

Minhyuk rose, then offered a hand to Myungjun, who accepted it. By some unspoken agreement, they dawdled a little bit as the others headed for the locker room to shower up and change before they headed back to the dorms.

As soon as they were alone, Minhyuk stepped closer to Myungjun.

“Myungjunnie,” he said quietly. “Please don’t do anything rash. If something happened to you, I don’t know what I’d -” Minhyuk swallowed hard. “I’ll protect you, all right? If we get attacked, you stay back and call for help. Let me do the fighting.”

“You said it yourself, you’re no better equipped for an encounter with a song-eater than I am.” Myungjun’s voice was low, firm, deadly serious in a way fans never saw him.

“I will protect you,” Minhyuk said, willing Myungjun to believe him even though there was no way he could explain that he could and would prevail against another song-eater by himself even if it cost him his own life.

“Let’s train hard with Eunwoo together, and then we can protect each other.” Myungjun smiled and squeezed Minhyuk’s wrist gently.

Minhyuk reversed the grip and caught Myungjun by the arm, dragged him over to the corner of the practice room where they wouldn’t be seen by the cameras or if someone opened the door.

“What are you doing?” Myungjun asked.

Minhyuk silenced him with a kiss. 

Myungjun moaned happily and kissed him back, and Minhyuk pulled him closer, deepened the kiss, delving in to taste him. 

But Myungjun put his hands on Minhyuk’s chest and pushed. “Not in the practice room! We talked about this.”

Minhyuk gazed into Myungjun’s eyes. “I need you to understand that I love you and I will do anything to make sure I don’t lose you.”

Too late, he realized how pathetic that sounded, but he didn’t care.

Myungjun held Minhyuk’s gaze. “You know how you don’t want me to put myself in danger? I don’t want you to do that either.”

Minhyuk swallowed hard. “I would rather die than lose you.” 

The admission was crazy and he knew it, but it was the truth. 

Myungjun frowned. He reached up, cupped his hand around Minhyuk’s face to stop him from looking away. “Minhyukie, what’s going on? Ever since Jaeseon-sunbae - ever since then, you’ve been upset. You did well for the broadcast today, but you’re not really better, are you?”

“Don’t worry about me. I’m fine, I promise.” Minhyuk tried a smile, but Myungjun shook his head.

“You don’t have to hide things from me.” Myungjun’s tone was unbearably gentle.

Minhyuk squeezed his eyes shut and turned away. 

Myungjun sighed. “I hurt you really badly when I pushed you away these last couple of days, didn’t I? You probably don’t even realize how much, so of course I didn’t. I’m so sorry. Please forgive me.”

Minhyuk shook his head and swallowed hard. “There’s nothing to forgive, I promise.”

It was Myungjun’s turn to silence him with a kiss. 

When Minhyuk was breathless and elated and wanting, Myungjun pulled back. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise. Now we’d better go before one of the others comes back to check on us and catches us.”

He headed for the door. After only a brief hesitation, Minhyuk followed. He would always follow Myungjun, until the day Myungjun told him to stop.


	8. Chapter 8

The next morning, Minhyuk was the last to leave the dorm and report to the shop to get his hair done. While he was sitting in the waiting room steadfastly ignoring the girls who were obviously Songbirds, he took a few selcas to remind himself of what he looked like. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had his natural hair color, though he’d gone very dark in times past. He’d gone quite light, too. Never as light as Jinwoo, Sanha, Bin, or Myungjun, but light all the same. He’d always had his hair more or less natural colors, the blue highlights for Blue Flame aside. The notion of being pink-haired was strange. The hair stylist would probably lighten his eyebrows to match. Hair dyeing always took so much longer than a regular trip to the shop, and then he’d be assigned a bunch of fancy color-safe shampoos and conditioners to use, and he’d have to hide his hair constantly so fans wouldn’t know, and as much as he would spend a week or so being surprised by his reflection every time he glimpsed it, the color change meant that a comeback was really happening.

Solah-noona still wasn’t at the shop, but Minhyuk felt like the stylist was less awkward around him than last time. She didn’t chat with him at all while he was waiting for the color to set in, though, so he was left alone in the chair poking around on his phone till Bin and Jinwoo arrived, also with their hair covered carefully.

“I’ll be done first,” Jinwoo said, “but I figured you’d sympathize with us the most. Eunwoo and his sensitive scalp have no sympathy for us.”

Bin pouted. “At least you’ll be done on the first round. They’ll have to bleach my hair at least once more before they can put the color in.” He sneezed and looked very forlorn.

The harsh scents of the hair chemicals were probably killing him, what with his sensitive nose. He had the worst luck - thick hair and an unusually fine sense of smell.

The stylist called Jinwoo back to the chair, leaving Bin and Minhyuk to suffer quietly together.

“There you are.” Eunwoo peeked around the barrier that separated the waiting area from the stylist chairs.

Bin straightened up, surprised. “I thought you’d be gone and on with your schedule already.”

Eunwoo shook his head and smiled. He held out his hand and presented Bin with a small glass jar. “I thought you might want this.”

“What is it?” But Bin accepted the jar anyway. He unscrewed the lid and sniffed the contents and winced.

“It shouldn’t smell bad,” Eunwoo said.

Bin shook his head. “No. I just got a strong whiff of the hair chemicals again.” He sighed.

“One day you’re going to do that and pass out because it’s some kind of poison or drug,” Minhyuk said. Truth was, his nose was about as sensitive as Bin’s, but he didn’t bring it up. As far as his teammates were concerned, his human trick was sensitive hearing. “All the fans know you have a sensitive nose. Some determined sasaeng -”

“Yah, don’t joke,” Bin said. He raised his eyebrows at Eunwoo.

“It’s vaseline, to smear under your nose. Might help block the smell a bit. I did some research.” Eunwoo gestured to the jar encouragingly.

Bin’s expression softened. “Oh, thank you.”

“Hopefully it won’t ruin your makeup,” Eunwoo said.

Bin, who’d already dipped his fingertip into the jar, hesitated.

“Go ahead, use it. You can touch up your makeup later if needed,” Minhyuk said. “Better to have to touch up a bit of your makeup than redo your entire face if you throw up.”

Eunwoo wrinkled his nose. “He has a point.”

Bin smeared some of the stuff under his nose and went to sniff, paused. “Right. Thank you.”

Eunwoo nodded and went to retreat to the waiting room where Sanha and Myungjun were probably gearing up to wreak some havoc, but then Yoona and her Songbird appeared.

“Eunwoo-ya,” Yoona said with a warm smile.

He bowed and said, with a small smile of his own, “Noona, Bomi-ssi. Good to see you again.”

Bin shifted closer to Minhyuk, gaze wary. He curled his hand around the little jar, and his knuckles turned white.

“We see each other all the time now. I wonder how we missed each other before, despite coming to the same shop. How are you?” Yoona asked.

“I am well, thank you.”

“And your mother?” Yoona tilted her head, her gaze not quite friendly.

Eunwoo inclined his head. “Commander Cha is as well as she can be, given the circumstances.”

“How is your team?” Yoona glanced at Bin and Minhyuk and smiled, and they both bowed.

“We’re getting ready for a comeback, so we’re getting our new hair colors,” Eunwoo said.

“Comeback! How exciting. I’ll do my best to support your team. Fighting!”

“Thank you, noona. We’ll be sure to support you for your next comeback as well.” Eunwoo’s smile was still small but genuine.

“Be safe,” Bomi added, a little stiffly.

Eunwoo, Bin, and Minhyuk bowed and waved farewell, and Yoona strode away.

“Are you going to get in trouble with Manager and Jinwoo over that?” Bin asked in a low voice, watching Bomi scan her surroundings as she followed Yoona across the salon floor.

“I shouldn’t,” Eunwoo said. He pressed his lips into a thin line. “He knows we’re both Songbirds. It would be easier, if we could tell people in general, but I understand why we don’t. Still, it would be better if we could be more open about things. Safety is important, after all.”

Bin nodded, but his expression was still wary.

The stylist arrived to fetch Bin, and another came for Eunwoo, so Minhyuk was left waiting for the chemicals to set in.

He dozed on and off through the rinsing and washing process, doing his best to keep his eyes shut while they worked on his eyebrows. He dragged himself back to proper awareness while the hairdryer was going, because he’d have to listen to complex instructions about aftercare.

When he finally opened his eyes, the person looking back at him in the mirror was a stranger.

And he looked weird.

“This was a terrible idea,” Minhyuk said, but then Myungjun was there, slinging an arm around his shoulders and cooing.

“Aigoo, Minhyukie, look how cute you are! The fans are going to love it.” He pinched Minhyuk’s cheek.

Minhyuk shrugged him off, unease blooming in his chest. The last thing he wanted was to look childish to his older boyfriend. “Hyung -”

“Aftercare,” the stylist said firmly, and Myungjun stepped out of her way.

Minhyuk listened closely, accepted the heavy bag of hair products - yet more bottles to clutter the bathroom at the dorm - and bowed, thanked the stylist. 

“Come on, everyone’s waiting for you.” Myungjun guided Minhyuk out to the waiting room where the others were gathered. 

Bin looked stylish with his pale hair. Jinwoo looked classy with his platinum-white hair.

“I look like an idiot,” Minhyuk said. 

Myungjun ruffled his hair. “Don’t say that. You look cute!”

Minhyuk cast Myungjun a look, unimpressed by his enthusiasm. “I barely looked cute at debut when I was an actual teenager.”

Myungjun pouted. “You were so cute at debut, with your little face and your little cheeks and your little dimples -”

“Hyung! I don’t want to look like a little boy,” Minhyuk protested.

Bin and Sanha burst out laughing, which didn’t help matters.

“Especially not to  _ you,” _ Minhyuk added, low enough for only Myungjun to hear.

Myungjun held out a black beanie. “Here. To preserve your dignity.”

Minhyuk accepted it and tugged it on. Bin and Jinwoo covered their hair as well, and back to the dorm they went.

“You look good with your hair like that,” Minhyuk protested to Myungjun, who kept tugging at the edges of his cap and trying to pet his hair. “That’s why you’re in a good mood.”

“I’m sure the stylists will be able to make you look just fine,” Eunwoo said.

“And if it looks really terrible after they get to you, you can do something else,” Sanha added.

Minhyuk rolled his eyes. “Thanks. That’s so comforting.”

“Is your scalp all right?” Jinwoo asked.

Minhyuk clutched the bag of fancy shampoo and conditioner. “It’s fine. It’ll be fine. It had better be fine.”

They managed to get back to the dorm and up to their floor without any encounters with fans or intrepid reporters or otherwise accidentally exposing their new hair colors.

Just as they were settling in - Minhyuk was rearranging the bottles of hair and skin products in the bathroom he shared with Myungjun and Sanha in an increasingly-dangerous game of Beauty Product Jenga - there was a knock at the door.

“Did someone order food?” Jinwoo asked.

“No,” Bin said, since he had the biggest appetite and was the most likely to randomly order food.

Minhyuk heard the front door open.

“Hello?” Myungjun asked cautiously.

“Delivery for Lee Dongmin from Commander Cha,” a girl said. “Please sign.”

“Thank you,” Eunwoo said.

Minhyuk managed to shove two heavy bottles into place without upsetting the entire collection of bottles littering the edges of the bathtub and hurried out into the den where Eunwoo was levering a box into place beside the piles of lore books and ledgers and other unpacked boxes.

The delivery girl was long gone.

“Is this them? Your journals?” Myungjun was right at Eunwoo’s shoulder, trying to peer into the box.

Eunwoo pushed aside the cardboard flaps at the top. “Yes. Everything from fourth grade and below has all the information we learned as trainees, so I’d recommend you skip those.”

“What’s the plan?” Bin asked Jinwoo.

“We should each take a volume, study it, and share anything we might find useful.” Jinwoo reached into the box, paused. “May I?”

Eunwoo nodded.

“What kinds of things do you look for, when tracking a song-eater?” Sanha asked.

Jinwoo picked up several neat little leather bound journals. Each had Eunwoo’s name stamped into the spine. Minhyuk drifted closer, heart pounding.

“However song-eaters seem like ravening beasts, they’re intelligent, sentient beings, capable of human-level rationality, so we treat them like serial killers. What are the patterns of their kills? Do they always pick a certain type of victim, hunt in a certain place, at a certain time of the day? That sort of thing.” Eunwoo was flipping through one of the journals absently.

Was this the kind of thing that went on his head all the time? Was he constantly thinking about inhuman serial killers, in between memorizing lines and choreography and learning new languages?

Minhyuk looked at the journal Jinwoo had handed him. The handwriting in it was neat, familiar. According to the dates listed in the front of the book, this journal spanned Eunwoo’s first year of high school - and his first year as a trainee.

“Your handwriting was so cute when you were little.” Bin grinned and held the journal out for the others to see.

Eunwoo glanced over. “That’s from sixth grade. There might be some useful lore in there, but not much, so feel free to skim. It’s true that song-eaters have preferences and tastes, so some might always pursue female altos, while another might prefer male tenors in essentially the same range.”

“If ledgers for hunts aren’t all the same, doesn’t that make it hard to see if patterns across murders even exist?” Sanha asked.

“Like I said, this won’t be easy. But it won’t hurt to try.” Eunwoo glanced at Jinwoo. “Do you have a spare notebook? I thought maybe we could make a central compilation of information that we think will be useful. Everyone can add to it as we go.”

Since Jinwoo and Minhyuk were the principal songwriters on the team - of the others, only Myungjun had really tried his hand at it - they always had spare notebooks lying around, not that they’d never tap potential lyrics or sing snatches of a melody into their phones.

“I’ll see what I can find.” Jinwoo ducked into the room he shared with Bin.

Eunwoo said to Myungjun, “To give the others a starting point, could you write down everything you remember about what happened to your sister? Where she was when the attack happened, what she looked like, what she was wearing, that kind of thing. What her voice sounded like.”

“Like mine,” Myungjun said. “But prettier. Sweeter. Clearer.”

Minhyuk swallowed hard. Myungjun’s voice was beautiful. If his sister’s voice had been more beautiful, a thirsty song-eater would have been hard-pressed to resist at least having a taste. Minhyuk swallowed again.

Jinwoo emerged from the bedroom with a notebook, which he held out. Myungjun accepted it. There was some more scrambling for a pen, and then Myungjun retreated to his bedroom to write.

“Think he’ll be all right?” Sanha asked, mouth twisted into an anxious frown.

“I’m sure his memories of what happened to his sister are very painful.” Jinwoo kept his voice low, and by some unspoken assent the others did the same.

They sat in a circle, a piece of paper and several pens between them so they could start to take notes if they found anything. Eunwoo wasn’t rereading one of his own journals, was instead leafing through one of the massive leather-bound textbooks. It was written in a language Minhyuk couldn’t quite make out.

“How many languages can you speak? Or a least read,” he asked.

“As many as necessary to do the hunt properly,” Eunwoo murmured, voice absent, as if he’d said it a million times - or perhaps heard it from his mother, the feared and respected Songbird commander.

Bin scooted closer to Eunwoo. “Yesterday, when you told Myungjun it takes an entire squadron of Songbirds to kill a single song-eater - that’s not true, is it? I mean, Soohyang and Dohee said they hunt as a pair. And before Songbirds were an official thing, regular humans managed to kill song-eaters on their own, right?”

Eunwoo said, “I’m sure if Myungjun were thinking clearly, he’d realize the same thing, but he’s obviously not thinking clearly about this situation, so it’s best if he stays far, far away from even the faintest suggestion of hunting.”

Bin stared at Eunwoo. “You...you just  _ lied _ to Myungjun-hyung?”

The cool look Eunwoo cast Bin made Minhyuk shiver even though it wasn’t even directed at him.

“I’m a Songbird. I lie to everyone all the time about who I am and what I do and have done so for years. You never suspected, did you?” Eunwoo cocked his head, curious. He slewed a glance at Minhyuk that he couldn’t read but unsettled him all the same.

Sanha and Jinwoo were studying quietly and diligently. 

Bin kept his voice low. His expression was also unreadable, unsettling. “I noticed, sometimes, that you come back from schedules in a different outfit from the one you left in. I thought maybe that you were dating secretly, hiding it even from us, but -”

“But sometimes I get blood on my clothes. Can’t walk around like that,” Eunwoo said.

He sounded completely nonchalant about the fact of his constant lying. 

Most of the time Minhyuk could swallow down the guilt and the stress, but Eunwoo didn’t seem to care in the least. Maybe he was always so stressed out from his insanely busy schedule that worrying about lying about being a Songbird barely registered for him? Of course, he was a Songbird. He believed his being a Songbird was right and just, and everyone else in the world agreed with him. If lying about being a Songbird was part of what he had to do to be effective at hunting monstrous song-eaters, that price was worth paying. He wasn’t like Minhyuk.

Before Bin could respond, Myungjun emerged from the bedroom. He offered the notebook - filled with his neat cursive - to Eunwoo, who accepted it solemnly and then read its contents in silence.

Minhyuk slid closer to Myungjun even though his stomach was churning with guilt, pressed up against his side to offer warmth and support. Myungjun leaned into him a little.

Eunwoo finished reading and nodded. “All right. Here’s what to look for.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter today.


	9. Chapter 9

Gearing up for a comeback was always kind of surreal. It was a flurry of photoshoots in increasingly strange outfits and poses (in the desert, on a dock, on a yacht, in a field, wearing jeans and t-shirts, wearing ruffles like a poet, wearing sleek suits like a mobster). It was late nights in the studio _(push that line faster, increase the energy here, drop your voice for the doubling on this phrase)_ and even later nights in the practice room _(I said on the_ down _beat!)._ Minhyuk was shoulder to shoulder with his teammates - his brothers, his best friends, his family - and they ate and breathed and slept together (sometimes _on_ each other). Management was all in a tizzy, scrambling to book interviews and variety shows and yet more photo shoots. The style team was constantly after them to take care of their skin, touch up their hair, hold up this accessory to see how it looked in the light for just a second _(also will it hit you in the face while you’re dancing?)._

Beneath the gathering energy and hype - from the fans online, from the staff when they hung a comeback banner in one of the windows facing the main road the company building was on - was an undercurrent of unease. If Minhyuk had thought that constantly checking the news for updates on the survivors of the spree of song-eater attacks was stressful, having an inside track on the actual hunting process from Eunwoo and the Songbirds who were suddenly friendly with him was even worse. 

The press reports on the other two boys were minimal: released from the hospital, staying with their families, their status with regards to their teams and contracts unknown, families and companies and teams requesting privacy and respect from fans and the press. The rumors swirling across the industry were more insidious: neither of the boys would ever sing again; one might not ever talk again and was on suicide watch; they were getting summarily fired and would have to pay hefty contract severance fees on top of whatever they owed on their training costs; they were suing their companies for failure to protect them; their teams were scrambling to replace them, because they were main vocalists, and there were bloodbaths among their companies’ trainees as a result.

The news from Songbirds - Yoona’s shadow Bomi, Soohyang and Dohee and other idol girls who only dared approach in groups, or with their managers looking on - was that Senior Command strongly suspected the attack was a coordinated effort, and those three boys had been targeted specifically. Whether song-eaters themselves had coordinated the attack or some malicious humans were behind it was still unknown, but the manner of the attacks was similar while the physical descriptions of the attackers varied greatly, which spoke to some communication between the attackers, or maybe that they knew each other well. Some younger Songbirds who were also idols had been tasked with doing research on the three victims and trying to find out what they had in common, why they’d been chosen as targets. Other young Songbirds had been tasked with reviewing existing records and searching for similar coordinated attacks in the past, or attacks with similar methods, as such a coordinated attack had required extensive planning and there had probably been some practice runs.

Minhyuk’s teammates were quietly terrified of the notion of song-eaters who made and executed such detailed, complex plans and operations. What was worse: song-eaters who were like genius psychopath serial killers, or humans capable of capturing, training, and deploying song-eaters for their own ends? Minhyuk learned with growing horror just how far and wide the Songbird net was spread, how organized and efficient they were at gathering and sharing information. The only reason Minhyuk and his kind had survived as long as they had was because so much of the information Songbirds had about song-eaters was utterly, utterly wrong.

Minhyuk thought of himself as a song-eater, because that was what everyone called them, but his mother had taught him, when he was very young, what they were really called: song-sharers. 

“What’s this about...giving or sharing your voice?” Myungjun asked.

It had become a strange nightly ritual, for the six of them to gather in the den and huddle around and do research, poring over Eunwoo’s lore journals and cross-referencing the information in them with Myungjun’s written account of his sister’s murder.

Minhyuk, who was sitting beside him, looked up sharply. “What?”

Eunwoo, who had started reviewing hunting ledgers, frowned. “Pardon?”

Myungjun held out the journal he was reading. Judging by the handwriting in it, it was one of Eunwoo’s more recent journals. “It’s a quote. _Beware the giving or sharing of your voice._ What does that mean?”

Eunwoo continued to look puzzled. Bin, who’d been lying with his head on Eunwoo’s thigh while he read, sat up.

“Let me see?” Eunwoo held out a hand.

Myungjun pointed. Eunwoo squinted at the page, then rose to his feet and padded across the den to the makeshift bookshelf of textbooks they’d made out of boxes turned on their sides. He selected a heavy leather-bound volume that was written in Italian and carried it back over to Myungjun, sank down beside him. He flipped through the pages rapidly.

“You can speak basically every language, can’t you?” Bin asked.

“Some better than others, obviously. I picked this up while I was in Milan for that photoshoot.” Eunwoo found the page he was looking for and set the book on his knees.

Sanha and Jinwoo had uncurled themselves from where they were studying comfortably and came to see.

Eunwoo traced his finger along the text, murmuring under his breath. He pursed his lips in a thoughtful frown. “The source material is unclear. All it says is that some legends indicate that song-eaters can convince people to give or share their voices. There are no further details from any primary sources. The author of this text suspects that the myth that vampires can hypnotize their prey to be willing is based on this aspect of a song-eater’s hunting skills.”

Sanha shivered and shifted closer to Jinwoo, who put an arm around his shoulders. “So they can just...trick us into letting ourselves be killed?”

“I’ve never heard of that happening, but we don’t always catch a song-eater while she’s in the middle of feeding, so if they do manage to do that to their victims, it’s not like the victims can tell us,” Eunwoo said.

Myungjun flinched.

Minhyuk put an arm around his shoulders and squeezed gently, trying for comfort, but he was hanging onto Eunwoo’s every word. What did the Songbirds know about song-eaters? What did they think they knew, that he could capitalize on, twist and spread as one more layer of defense?

“Well, they probably have to look into our eyes to hypnotize us, right?” Jinwoo said. “I’ve heard some people - regular humans - can hypnotize people just by looking into their eyes. So if we ever get caught -”

“If we ever get caught,” Eunwoo said, “we work as a team till backup can arrive.”

Bin and Sanha nodded.

“And we keep on training,” Myungjun said.

Whenever they were scheduled for dance practice at the company, if their schedules permitted they spent an hour or so after drilling basic self-defense techniques that were simple, versatile, and would allow them to fend off a song-eater till Songbirds arrived (or maybe just Eunwoo, or maybe just Minhyuk; and this was how surreal Minhyuk’s life was, that he was training to kill his own kind and help others do the same).

When they were trainees, Minhyuk had had more time for martial arts training, and until he and the others had been selected for a team, it was just one more part of his day, in the rotation of dancing and rap lessons and media training and schoolwork and the occasional vocal lesson. Once he’d been selected for the team and moved in with the others, taekwondo was something he’d only been afforded once in a while, and that was usually on his own, in a practice room with a mirror to check his form while he did drills. Sanha had pursued his own martial arts, mostly judo, taekwondo to a lesser degree, and he’d carried on through high school. 

Sparring with the others in the practice room added to the surreal haze that was constantly swirling in Minhyuk’s head. As a student, he’d had lots of practice at tempering his strength and reflexes so he would seem like a regular human. On his own, he’d practiced his skills with his true abilities. Trying to temper himself again was nerve-wracking.

But, halfway through the first self-defense lesson, he realized he didn’t have to. Because everyone was watching Eunwoo.

Eunwoo had been the captain of the soccer and basketball teams in middle school. He’d arrived at the company with zero singing or dancing experience, and in his first year he’d endured endless shouting and criticism from instructors, and by all appearances had two left feet and should move through the world in bubble-wrap. But then the first time he’d played basketball with Jinwoo, he’d demonstrated surprising athletic skill. On the soccer pitch with Myungjun, he’d demonstrated further skill.

And the curious thing about it was, he still didn’t _look_ athletic. There was something in the way he moved that was so deliberate, so focused, like he was thinking too hard even as he played. But he was fast and accurate and skilled.

Eunwoo as a martial artist, in combat, was another creature entirely. 

The first time Minhyuk saw Eunwoo in action - only half in action, going at sixty percent force at most, showing Sanha a jiujitsu takedown - he was struck silent, because Eunwoo could _move._ All the fluidity and grace and connectedness of motion that Eunwoo lacked in his dancing he had in combat. 

Eunwoo at full speed, at full force, was terrifying even to Minhyuk. By all accounts Eunwoo had superior Songbird training, but the thought of Eunwoo or even someone like him going after Minhyuk’s mother or grandmother was enough to make Minhyuk totally blank out.

And then get taken out at the knees by an overly-enthusiastic Jinwoo trying a double-leg takedown.

After a couple of weeks of watching Eunwoo move in combat, Minhyuk was pretty sure he could hold his own against Eunwoo or another Songbird of similar physical caliber, which he hoped meant he could also hold his own against another song-eater, but it wouldn’t be a pretty fight. 

“Does this mean we should redistribute the buddy system?” Bin asked one evening, when they were all sprawled on the floor of the practice room trying to catch their breath. “Since Eunwoo is an actual Songbird and Myungjun is our main vocalist.”

“I was right, though,” Sanha said. “Minhyuk is the best martial artist out of the rest of us. You’re awful, Bin.”

Bin, being as tall and strong and graceful a dancer as he was, was often presumed to be skilled at other athletics, like basketball, but of the six of them he was possibly the worst at ball sports (which had been unfortunate, when he’d been cast as a character in a drama who was skilled at basketball; luckily Eunwoo had been able to coach him a bit).

“We should change the buddy system,” Jinwoo said. He considered. “Myungjun and Eunwoo. Minhyuk and Bin. Me and Sanha.”

Bin turned his head and reached out, offered a fist for a fist-bump. “Ancestor Line rides again, right?”

Minhyuk’s fist-bump in return was lackluster, but given that they were all exhausted from grappling, which was much more draining than striking, his lack of energy was unremarkable.

Myungjun cleared his throat. “We should get back to the dorms.”

And study some more, he meant.

Jinwoo was the first to peel himself off the floor. He offered a hand to Sanha.

Bin tried to kip up and failed.

Eunwoo kipped up to his feet with enviable ease. Minhyuk considered giving the maneuver a try, but he’d been grappling with Eunwoo most of the evening, and he was sore and slow. If a song-eater came for them now, they were dead. All of them.

Minhyuk closed his eyes. What would he do then? He knew he and Eunwoo would be able to hold out the longest till - if - backup came. Would he kill one of his own kind? Would he die with his teammates? Would he expose himself as a song-eater and maybe convince the attacker to back off and let his teammates live?

Had Eunwoo ever agonized over this decision, what to do in case of an attack? No. He was so assured in the righteousness of his cause as a Songbird that he wouldn’t hesitate to use his skills to dispatch with a monstrous song-eater.

Minhyuk exhaled shakily.

“Here, I’ll give you a hand up.”

Minhyuk opened his eyes.

Myungjun stood over him, smiling tiredly.

Minhyuk gazed up at him and thought, _You’re beautiful. I miss you. I want you._

He could say none of those things aloud - so many things he couldn’t say aloud, yet he and Jinwoo were the most prolific songwriters and lyricists on the team - so he reached up and accepted Myungjun’s hand (so small and delicate in his) and let Myungjun help him to his feet.

All six of them showered quickly and headed back to the dorm.

Minhyuk and Jinwoo set about gathering drinks and snacks for the others and arranging them on the coffee table while Eunwoo and Sanha distributed the study materials. Sanha tended to study at the table with his books spread out around him, perhaps as a remnant of his student days, he having been a student most recently among them. Also, he was closest to the snacks, but Jinwoo sat beside him, leaning against the couch, and made sure he shared.

Myungjun and Minhyuk had been graciously allowed to take over the couch, since Minhyuk was good at sitting still and Myungjun liked to snuggle with whoever was sitting close to him.

“Also Minhyuk is warm. My personal heater,” Myungjun said, which no one disputed, and he laid his head on Minhyuk’s shoulder and opened one of Eunwoo’s journals.

Eunwoo was doing research on his laptop. Bin was sprawled on the floor beside him, also reading one of the journals.

Eunwoo made a low, thoughtful noise.

“What is it?” Bin asked.

“Some of the younger girls are reporting that they’ve found what they believe to be practice run attacks on some amateur singers and male trainees,” Eunwoo said. “None of the boys had their voices stolen, so the crimes were reported to police as regular assaults and then not passed on to the Songbirds, but someone has a sister in regular law enforcement and got her to help out.”

“There’s no way song-eaters could be doing this on their own,” Sanha said. “How would they know which boys were trainees? Humans have to be helping them.”

“Song-eaters aren’t sub-human,” Eunwoo said. “They’re super-human. They’re stronger and faster than us. Possibly smarter, too. Scientists estimate that neanderthals, on average, had much higher IQs than homo sapiens on account of needing that intelligence to hunt and survive. Similarly, wolves are more intelligent than dogs. Don’t assume song-eaters are stupid.”

Sanha blinked, wide-eyed. “Oh. I never thought of it that way.”

Bin sat up and peered over Eunwoo’s shoulder. “Will looking into those attacks help us figure out who the song-eaters are?”

“That’s not our focus,” Eunwoo said. “But it looks like there’s been a wave of attempted assaults against female trainees.”

“Which means those song-eaters could be gearing up for another attack, but this time against female idols,” Jinwoo said.

Myungjun said, “Joke’s on those song-eaters, since pretty much every girl group has a Songbird on their team.”

Minhyuk bit his lip. Should he tell his mother, try to warn the song-eaters? Convince them not to attack? Or would that encourage them to attack, to try to wipe out entire teams so they could take out Songbirds as well? It wasn’t like Minhyuk’s mother knew other song-eaters, though. The only song-eaters in Minhyuk’s world were his mother and grandmother - and the nameless, faceless ones who might try to kill him since he was an idol.

“The others are notifying their teams and companies,” Eunwoo said.

“Does our sister group have a Songbird on the team?” Minhyuk asked.

Eunwoo nodded absently. 

“Would it be worth looking into police records, to see if an assault or attempted assault similar to the one that happened to Myungsoon occurred before or after?” Bin asked.

Eunwoo said, “I can reach out and see about getting records, but these kinds of coordinated attacks are very rare.”

“Best to cover all bases,” Jinwoo said.

Myungjun had tensed at the mention of his sister’s name. Minhyuk put an arm around him and held him. 

“I’ll email one of my contacts,” Eunwoo said. 

“Thank you,” Myungjun said quietly.

Eunwoo nodded, already typing rapidly.

The rest of them lapsed into silence, reading and making notes.

Jinwoo yawned and glanced at his watch. Minhyuk checked his watch too. It was about time for bed.

“Hey, I found something.” Sanha sat up straighter.

“What?” Myungjun sat up as well, pawing at his eyes. 

“Remember that thing you asked about the other night - sharing voices? I found another thing about it.” Sanha cleared his throat. _“A song-eater can share a song to give life to another.”_

Eunwoo frowned. “Is that all it says?”

Sanha nodded and held out the journal. Eunwoo accepted it and went to look through the textbooks in the little Songbird library that was growing and slowly becoming more organized against the far wall of the den. 

“In movies and dramas and stuff, vampires can give some of their blood to a human to heal them,” Bin said. “I remember that from Orange Marmalade.”

Myungjun snorted. “Why would a song-eater heal a human?” 

Jinwoo said, “Maybe it’s to heal another song-eater. Sort of like how birds chew up food and then give it to their babies?”

Even Minhyuk made a face at that image. But his heart sped up. Did Songbirds know the extent to which song-eaters could use songs to help or heal other people?

Eunwoo returned with a scroll, which he’d unrolled partially. “My Greater Seal Chinese is a little rusty, but I think Jinwoo-hyung is correct. Song-eaters can share energy between them after feeding on a human. It’s perhaps the basis of the notion of Taoist energy channeling, like in xianxia novels.”

Xianxia novels involved magic that was powered by music. Minhyuk wasn’t much familiar with the genre, but Bin had binged a drama based on a popular one while he was recovering during Blue Flame promotions, and Minhyuk had caught bits and pieces. Perhaps he ought to look more into the myths and legends behind those novels and see what truth, if any, was contained in them.

“Vampires give their blood to dying humans to turn them into vampires,” Bin said. 

Sanha’s eyes went wide. “Is that how song-eaters are made? From humans who are dying?”

Eunwoo cleared his throat. “Ah, no. Song-eaters are like the Amazons of old, in that respect.”

Minhyuk wasn’t sure what that meant, but he wasn’t going to ask for clarification first. Myungjun and Jinwoo both nodded knowingly after a couple of moments.

Sanha’s face lit with understanding. “Like Wonder Woman! They’re made out of dirt and magic?”

Bin’s eyes went wide. “Then - song-eaters could just make an entire army whenever they wanted?”

“No,” Jinwoo said. He was blushing.

“Then what?” Bin asked.

Jinwoo cleared his throat. “In the original legends, Amazons would, ah, you know, with men sort of randomly once in a while. They’d keep the baby girls and give back the baby boys.”

Sanha’s mouth fell open. Then he clapped a hand over his mouth, turning bright red to the tips of his ears. “You mean - _oh.”_

“Song-eaters are beautiful so they can seduce their prey,” Eunwoo said.

Minhyuk swallowed down a protest.

Bin cocked his head. “So...are there boy song-eaters, then?”

“Don’t be stupid,” Myungjun said. “Everyone knows the rules. They’re beautiful, they can’t sing, and they’re female.”

“Something in their magic makes it so they’re only girls,” Eunwoo said. “As far as we know, either boys just aren’t born, or they’re all stillborn, or perhaps they’re just born without magic and are killed.”

Disgust crossed Myungjun’s face. “They kill their own babies?”

“We suspect maybe they feed off them,” Eunwoo said.

Bile rose in Minhyuk’s throat. He wanted to cry out, protest. His mother and grandmother loved him and his younger brother. He’d been raised with nothing but love and utmost care.

“In certain instances, song-eaters can feed off of screams, not just singing or music,” Eunwoo said.

“Off of screams?” Minhyuk echoed. That was something he’d never heard before. But it didn’t sound totally unreasonable. If a scream was a single, sustained, clear note -

“Do song-eaters go to concerts and feed off of the audience?” Sanha had scooted closer to Jinwoo and was clinging to him. 

“They could,” Eunwoo said. “But I think that ability is quite rare. Only old, old song-eaters can do that.”

With enough songs, a song-eater could live forever.

“Well, if we encounter a pair of song-eaters, we know to keep them separate from each other so they can’t heal each other,” Myungjun said.

Minhyuk bit his lip. He couldn’t say anything.

“If we encounter a pair of song-eaters, let alone a single one,” Eunwoo said, “we -”

“Work together and wait for backup,” Jinwoo, Sanha, and Bin chorused dutifully.

Eunwoo eyed Myungjun. “Hyung?”

Myungjun repeated the mantra dutifully. “We work together and wait for backup.”

No one noticed that Minhyuk didn’t say anything.

“Good.” Eunwoo closed up the scroll. “Thank you for bringing that to my attention, Sanha.” He went to put it away.

Sanha resumed studying, and the others did as well.

Minhyuk’s throat was dry, so he reached for his water bottle. Myungjun resumed snuggling against him. Minhyuk stared down at him and felt terribly, terribly alone. He shifted carefully to open his water bottle.

He tasted blood before he felt the sting of his cut lip.

“You all right?” Myungjun must have noticed his flinch.

“Fine,” Minhyuk said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand carefully. What was one more lie, in all this?

* * *

Sleeping in late was a rare and precious opportunity. Even if someone won the nightly rock-paper-scissors to determine who went to the shop when, being last in the lineup usually didn’t mean sleeping in late. It just meant being a little less sleep-deprived than the rest of the team. On days when Minhyuk didn’t have any publicity appearances on his schedule, he still had things he had to do - meet with choreographers or producers, work out, talk to management, do his own dance practice or taekwondo drills. If the stars aligned, he might be able to meet up with Chanhee or one of his friends from another team so they could hang out and get a meal or (most likely, where Chanhee was concerned) dance.

Days when Minhyuk had no publicity, company, or social obligations were even rarer. 

He knew when those days were, and absent some kind of calamity, he managed to sleep through his roommates getting up and going about their schedules. It was like his body _knew_ he had a break coming, and he could sleep like the dead till he woke up feeling well-rested and ready to engage in some much-needed self-care, like a spontaneous trip to the sauna.

So when he was dragged from the warm, soothing depths of sleep by the hideous quacking ringtone of Myungjun’s cellphone, he was beyond unhappy.

_“Yah!”_

He pushed himself up and clawed aside his hairband, rolled off the side of his bunk and landed in a crouch. Then he crawled across a protesting Myungjun to get at his cellphone and shut it off.

Myungjun, however, was more awake, and also knew exactly where his phone was, and right before Minhyuk could get a hand on it and fling it across the room, Myungjun unlocked it and answered. 

“Hello? Yes, Manager.”

Minhyuk groaned and flopped down on Myungjun’s mattress. He couldn’t disrupt a call from management. He also didn’t have the energy to climb back into his own bunk, even though Myungjun’s knee was jammed uncomfortably into his ribs.

After a moment, Myungjun shifted, and the offending knee was gone. Minhyuk groaned again and closed his eyes. 

“Of course, I’ll be there in an hour,” Myungjun was saying. He shifted some more, and then he was curled around Minhyuk, sleep-warm and soft and perfect.

Belatedly, Minhyuk realized Sanha could open his eyes at any moment and see them, but Myungjun just smoothed a hand up and down his back and kept on talking. Minhyuk closed his eyes and snuggled closer. It wasn’t like they’d never shared beds before. As long as they didn’t get up to hanky-panky - and he had no energy for hanky-panky, no matter what his body thought this early in the morning on a day he should have been allowed to _sleep in late_ \- no one would think twice about them curling up together like this.

Besides, if they asked, Minhyuk had a legitimate explanation for being in Myungjun’s bed.

He yawned and enjoyed the gentle warmth of Myungjun’s hand on his back. He wanted to stay here forever, only Myungjun was still talking, voice fast and excited even though he was doing his best to keep it down. Finally, the call ended, and Myungjun set his phone aside, settled in to cuddle Minhyuk properly.

“I have to go into the company to talk about the musical,” Myungjun murmured against Minhyuk’s hair. “Don’t know how long it’ll take.”

Minhyuk nodded and buried his nose against Myungjun’s collarbone, inhaling the scent of his skin.

“Bin and Sanha left to go meet with Kangmin, because they’re hosting the music show again today,” Myungjun continued. “Eunwoo is out filming for his variety show and will be gone all day. Jinwoo said he was heading into the studio to put the final touches on his song.”

That Jinwoo had had one of his songs accepted for the new album was a huge accomplishment. That he’d been allowed to co-produce it was an even bigger accomplishment, showed how much the company trusted him as an artist, and he was putting a lot of care into it.

Myungjun ducked his head and nuzzled Minhyuk’s ear, and sparks of pleasure danced down his spine, waking him up more.

“You know how Jinwoo is. He’ll be in the studio till tomorrow if the other producer doesn’t kick him out,” Myungjun murmured. “So…”

“Hm?” Minhyuk asked.

“So once I get back, we have this place to ourselves.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Virtual cookies and at least a thousand words, ship of your choice, to anyone who can name the particular xianxia novel I was thinking of. ;)


	10. Chapter 10

Minhyuk opened his eyes.

Myungjun was smiling down at him, eyes sparkling with mischief - and desire.

Minhyuk cleared his throat. “We never really celebrated,” he said.

Myungjun raised his eyebrows.

“Celebrated you finally achieving your dream of being in a musical. It’s a big deal. You deserve a huge celebration. Once the company makes the announcement, the fans will send gifts and things. But you deserve a real celebration.” Minhyuk smiled at him. “I’ll take care of everything.”

“Minhyukie, that’s sweet, but you don’t have to.”

“I want to,” he said. “I want to celebrate you and how amazing you are.”

Since Sanha was gone, and they had some privacy - Jinwoo was too polite to barge in without knocking - Minhyuk leaned in and kissed Myungjun, slow and soft and sweet. Myungjun hummed happily and kissed him back.

“Sorry,” Minhyuk said when they parted for breath. “I haven’t brushed my teeth yet.”

Myungjun kissed him again, short and sweet. “Don’t care. Morning kisses from you are the best.” He wrapped his arms around Minhyuk and sighed. “We never get to wake up like this. I’m going to enjoy it while it lasts.”

“You also said you’d be in in an hour and at least fifteen minutes have passed,” Minhyuk pointed out.

Myungjun silenced him with another kiss. Minhyuk, because he was still drowsy and Myungjun was deliciously warm, didn’t protest, and when Myungjun slid his hands under Minhyuk’s shirt and traced along his skin, up and down his spine, counting his ribs, Minhyuk arched happily into his touch and kept on kissing. He was definitely awake now, but he certainly wasn’t annoyed about it.

And then Myungjun pulled back, breathing hard. “I have to shower and dress and go.”

Minhyuk flopped onto his back with a groan.

When Myungjun went to crawl over him to get off the bed, Minhyuk caught him by the hips and tried to tug him back in for another kiss, but he didn’t try too hard, and he only managed a quick peck before Myungjun wriggled free and stumbled to his feet.

“Don’t make me late,” Myungjun protested. “If you do that I’ll get back into bed with you and never leave.”

Minhyuk widened his eyes and batted his eyelashes. “Promise?”

Myungjun shook his head. “You’re such a bad influence.”

Minhyuk pushed his t-shirt up and scratched his belly idly. Myungjun’s gaze was fixed on his bare skin. “Me? But Myungjunnie-hyung, _you’re_ supposed to be the influence, not me. I’m just your innocent little dongsaeng -”

“Yah!” Myungjun closed his eyes for a moment. Then he grabbed the comforter and tossed it over Minhyuk, half-drowning him under its fluffiness. “You’re evil. I don’t know why anyone thinks you’re sweet. Now I have to go. The sooner I go, the sooner I can come back.”

Minhyuk pawed the comforter aside so he could see Myungjun again and nodded. “All right. Keep me updated.”

Myungjun leaned in, pressed a kiss to Minhyuk’s forehead, and then hurried out of the room.

Minhyuk curled up beneath Myungjun’s comforter and drifted back to sleep.

Today was going to be a very good day.

He slept through Myungjun coming back into the bedroom to dress, slept through his departure. When he finally woke again, an hour had passed, so he rolled out of the bed. As a courtesy, he made Myungjun’s bed before he climbed up the bunk bed ladder and made his own. He turned on the television and hooked up one of the laptops to it so he could stream a drama while he did a basic workout, stretches and push-ups and pull-ups and crunches and lunges and squats and other things using Eunwoo’s textbooks as weights.

By the time he was finished working out, he’d worked up a good sweat and was fully awake, so he showered and dressed and then sat down in the den to plan his day.

To that end, he called his mother.

“Minhyuk-ah, how are you?”

She always asked that when she answered the phone, but these days the question had taken on a bit more urgency.

“I’m well.” Minhyuk did his best to infuse his voice with calm and warmth. 

“Where’s Eunwoo-yah?”

“Out filming for his variety show,” Minhyuk said. “Everyone but me had schedules today. Myungjun will be home in a bit, though. You know how he got that role in that musical?”

“The one about the drag queen.”

“It’s always been his dream to be in a musical, so I thought I’d make him dinner to celebrate. Do you have any suggestions for recipes?”

“Of course.” Eomma did her best to sound cheerful and warm as well, but Minhyuk could hear the undertone of anxiety.

Her son was living with a Songbird, and not just any Songbird but the son of a famed Songbird commander from a clan of some of the fiercest and best Songbirds. The only way for Minhyuk to stay sane was to not think about those things as much as possible, so his mother was overthinking all of those things in his stead.

“By the way,” he said, listening to her rustle around in her recipe books in the kitchen, “it sounds like at least some Songbirds know something about song-sharing.”

 _“What?”_ Eomma had never hit that note before.

“It was in one of their lore books,” Minhyuk said, keeping his tone calm and even. “Based on what Eunwoo said, Songbirds think it’s a method song-eaters use to heal each other.”

“That’s one use for it,” Eomma said, sounding calmer. “You didn’t -”

“Of course I didn’t suggest there were other ways to use it,” Minhyuk said. “I just thought I’d let you know, so you could tell - tell Grandma.”

He didn’t ask if she knew song-eaters besides Grandma; she wouldn’t tell him if she did, let alone who they were.

“Thank you, son.” Eomma sounded, suddenly, very tired. But she took a deep breath, and he could imagine the smile she was pasting on her face even though there was no one else to see. “But you called for recipes. What kinds of food does your hyung like to eat?”

“He really likes sushi,” Minhyuk said. “And he likes your kimbap.”

“Okay. Have a paper and pen? I’ll give you the recipes for my best sashimi and kimbap.”

Minhyuk headed into his room to find writing supplies. “I’m all ears.”

As he wrote, he mentally checked off what they already had in their cupboards and fridge versus what he’d have to buy. He read the recipes back, and once his mother approved of them, he bade her farewell.

“Thanks so much.”

“It was nothing, my son. I love you.”

“Love you too.”

“Be safe,” she said softly.

“I will. You too.”

Minhyuk ended the call before he could say something even more sentimental, or his mother could issue one of her terrifying warnings, and he went to check the cupboards. Once his shopping list was all made up, he grabbed a cap to cover his hair and a pair of thick-rimmed glasses to obscure his face, grabbed his shopping bags, and headed for the door.

Today was going to be the best day ever.

* * *

Minhyuk enjoyed cooking because he liked trying new things, and also he could eat the results and see others enjoy the fruit of his labors. He liked dancing because with dancing he could say all the things he felt while he listened to a song without having to bother with the complexities of words. When he danced, he could be honest. Minhyuk lied with words all the time, but he never lied with his body.

While he was alone in the dorm and had the entire place to himself, he could turn on a radio to a station that mixed live performances with canned music and sip voices and instruments here and there as it pleased him, all the while slicing and chopping and mixing. He’d watched some online tutorials on how to make pretty sashimi. He’d also bought a celebratory cake, an ice cream cake in Myungjun’s favorite flavor, with a candle for him to blow out.

Even when he wasn’t doing cooking broadcasts for fans, he wore the apron that a fan had embroidered with his English initials, because he liked it, and he could pretend he was a better chef than he was while he shimmied his hips and wielded a knife with calm competence.

In addition to cooking delicious food, he’d gone to some effort to set the table prettily, had found nice plates and chopsticks and spoons, watched another online tutorial on how to fold linen napkins fancy like in expensive restaurants, and he even had a couple of candles he could light for good measure. He’d get as much food as possible prepared, then shower and change into nicer clothes, and once Myungjun sent a message that he was on his way, Minhyuk would set to cooking so everything would be warm when Myungjun returned. 

Minhyuk absently inhaled a particularly bright and spicy trumpet solo, then stepped back and surveyed his work. He’d managed to slice the sashimi very neatly, and the pickled ginger at least resembled a rose. For a first try, it looked pretty good. 

And then the song was interrupted by the ping of an incoming message.

Minhyuk checked his phone.

 _Be home in an hour._ Myungjun had accompanied the message with a selca of him winking.

Minhyuk’s heart fluttered. They lived together and worked together but barely got to spend any real time together. It was almost ironic.

He smiled and fired off a reply. _See you then._

Time to clean up and make this celebration happen right.

Minhyuk made sure to shave very carefully and brush his teeth, comb his hair neatly. He didn’t bother with makeup. When he looked in the mirror, his pink hair was downright weird if it wasn’t styled for the stage. Oh well. These were the sacrifices he made for his job. Myungjun had black hair again, for the first time in a long time, and he looked amazing. Minhyuk hummed happily to himself. He would have to arrange similar dates in future. Myungjun deserved all the love and affection and special treatment in the world. 

Fans had what they referred to as a “boyfriend” look for their idols, which usually meant casual clothes, glasses, soft sweaters and cardigans. Minhyuk didn’t mind dressing that way for fans - usually in clothes they sent him as gifts - but for his actual boyfriend, he was dressing up: a crisp button-down shirt, neatly-pressed slacks that made his legs look long, understated jewelry. He dabbed on a bit of cologne, and he was waiting just inside the door when he heard Myungjun activating the door code. 

“Welcome home,” he said as the door swung open.

Myungjun murmured a greeting and toed off his shoes, and then he really looked at Minhyuk, and his eyes went wide, lips parted in awe. It was one thing when fans reacted to them like that, but Myungjun looking at him like that was different. Minhyuk couldn’t help but blush a little.

“Wow,” Myungjun said. “You look - wow.”

Minhyuk ducked his head, blushing harder. “I did my best for you. You deserve the best. You’ve worked so hard for so long and you’ve finally achieved your dream -”

Myungjun stepped forward and kissed him, long and slow and deep.

Minhyuk’s eyes fluttered closed, and he surrendered.

The door falling shut behind Myungjun startled both of them apart.

Minhyuk’s eyes flew open. “Myungjunnie, what if someone saw -?”

Myungjun nosed along Minhyuk’s throat, his arms tight around Minhyuk’s waist. “Are you wearing cologne? You smell so good.”

“I am, but you probably also smell your very nice celebratory meal.”

Myungjun groaned. “I am really hungry right now, but not for food.” He bit down lightly right behind Minhyuk’s jaw, and Minhyuk shivered.

“If you want to skip the meal and go straight to dessert - although I do have actual dessert - let me at least go turn off the stove -”

Myungjun licked his way into Minhyuk’s mouth again, and Minhyuk couldn’t think. Myungjun tasted like coffee and something sweet and also something spicy, and he was warm and he smelled so good and -

“Really, before we burn the dorm down,” Minhyuk said, managing to pull back a fraction.

Myungjun groaned but nodded, and Minhyuk stepped back, took a deep breath, and headed to the stove.

Myungjun was hot on his heels. “Actually, that looks really delicious. And smells delicious. What do I do? How do I choose?”

“Maybe food first,” Minhyuk said. “So you have energy for dessert.”

Myungjun pouted but nodded. “You’re right. I am really hungry.” He wrapped his arms around Minhyuk’s waist and pulled him back, rested his chin on Minhyuk’s shoulder from behind. “But you look so good. And you’re all mine. This is just for me, right? You didn’t take a selca to show to the fans later.”

“Just for you,” Minhyuk promised. “Go, sit, relax. I got a little bottle of champagne.”

It was just a mini one, since neither of them particularly liked drinking, nor were they much good at holding their liquor.

Myungjun sank down at the table. “Wow. This looks so pretty.” He smiled up at Minhyuk. “You really did this all for me?”

Minhyuk nodded. 

“I have to take pictures so I can remember this.” Myungjun fished his phone out of his pocket.

Minhyuk lit the candles and dimmed the lights, then fetched the little bottle of champagne and the fancy glass flutes that came with it. He offered the bottle to Myungjun, who was taking pictures of the napkin folded like a peacock.

“You can do the honors,” Minhyuk said.

Myungjun nodded and accepted the bottle.

“Whoa, don’t aim it at me,” Minhyuk protested.

Myungjun apologized profusely, but he got the bottle open easily, and he filled both glasses for them. At the stove, Minhyuk was back in his apron and overseeing the finishing touches on the meal. Ten minutes later, everything was ready, and he carried it over to the table carefully.

“You made all this?”

“I called my mom for help,” Minhyuk admitted, sitting opposite Myungjun.

Awe stole across Myungjun’s features again. “Park Minhyuk, what did I do to deserve you?”

“You deserve so much better than me,” Minhyuk said.

Myungjun shook his head. “That’s not true.” He looked away for a moment.

Minhyuk scooped up his champagne flute. “But we aren’t here to argue. We’re here to celebrate you and how awesome you are. You have achieved one of your lifelong dreams. You’re going to be a superstar.”

Myungjun smiled and raised his glass. “Yes. To me.” He winked. “We should do a love shot.” 

They both rose and leaned in, clinked glasses, linked arms, and drank.

The alcohol burned as it went down, and Minhyuk grimaced, but then he resumed his seat and started serving Myungjun food, explaining each dish as he went. Myungjun danced happily in his seat. 

“All my favorites! You really are the best boyfriend.”

Warmth blossomed in Minhyuk’s chest. They never got to call each other _boyfriend_ out loud.

“Like I said, the best for you.” Minhyuk gestured with his chopsticks. “Eat lots! And tell me how the meeting with management went.”

Myungjun lit up, and he launched into his tale, talking about how he was sharing the role with three other actors, rotating their performances, what his rehearsal schedule would be like, what the other actors were like, about the plot of the play itself. He looked so excited and happy. Minhyuk was incredibly happy for him.

When the meal was finished, Myungjun leaned across the table and waggled his eyebrows at Minhyuk. 

“You said something about dessert.”

“Well, we could have _dessert -”_ Minhyuk nodded in the direction of the bedroom - “or we could have cake to celebrate further.”

Myungjun considered, rubbing his belly. “We just ate a lot, and it’s a bad idea to work out really hard after a big meal, so...let’s have some cake and let the food settle and then we can, you know, work out.” He waggled his eyebrows again, and Minhyuk couldn’t help but laugh. 

“All right. Dessert it is.” He fetched the cake from the freezer, put a candle in the top and lit it. 

Then he carried it over to the dining table, singing congratulations to Myungjun, who clapped and looked delighted. Myungjun blew out the candle, and Minhyuk clapped and cheered, and when Myungjun leaned up to kiss him, he kissed back, slow and easy and happy.

The kiss went from warm and comforting to hot and sultry. Myungjun rose, slid his hands from Minhyuk’s waist up his sides, up his back to tangle in his hair. Minhyuk moaned and pressed closer, his hands on Myungjun’s hips, nipping at his mouth over and over again. Myungjun laughed against Minhyuk’s mouth. 

“That’s my boy. We don’t have to go hard right now, do we? We can have some fun, light each other up, eat some cake to get our strength back, and then we can go as hard as we want, hm?” Myungjun slid his hands back down Minhyuk’s body, caressing and possessive. “The others will be gone for hours, right? We can take our time. I’ve always wanted to do it slow, watch you shake apart, make you scream -”

Minhyuk ducked his head and grazed his teeth along the smooth column of Myungjun’s neck. “You think you can make me scream? Bet I can make you scream first.”

Again with that throaty, sultry little laugh. It curled along Minhyuk’s skin and down his throat like honeyed wine. “You’re on, lover boy.” Myungjun reached for the buttons on Minhyuk’s shirt. 

Minhyuk leaned back against the table, forehead pressed to Myungjun’s, their breath mingling as they both watched Myungjun’s nimble little hands fumble their way down Minhyuk’s chest. After the last button was undone, Myungjun parted the fabric with warm hands, sliding along Minhyuk’s skin and setting his pulse racing. 

He was looking right into Minhyuk’s eyes, smirking, daring him to look away. 

Minhyuk broke the staring contest by closing the distance between them and kissing Myungjun once more. He started tugging Myungjun’s shirt free so he could get his hands under, feel all that smooth warm skin.

Myungjun broke the kiss and began mouthing his way along Minhyuk’s jaw, panting and trying to peel him out of his long sleeves. When he curled his tongue at that spot just below Minhyuk’s ear, Minhyuk’s pulse spiked, and heat shot through his veins. 

Myungjun laughed against Minhyuk’s skin. “You like that? I’ll do it again.”

Minhyuk tipped his head back to allow Myungjun better access.

And saw Jinwoo standing in the tiny foyer, halfway out of his shoes, mouth open in shock. 

“Hyung!” Minhyuk pushed Myungjun back and fumbled to pull his shirt back on. 

“Yah,” Myungjun protested, but then Minhyuk tugged Myungjun behind him. 

“What the hell is this?” Jinwoo’s voice was low, dangerously calm. His expression was unreadable. 

“It’s not what you think,” Minhyuk said automatically. 

Jinwoo straightened up slowly. “What do you think I’m thinking right now?” Even though he was the shortest of them, his presence filled the entire room.

Minhyuk fumbled for words. “We - cake. I bought a cake. For Myungjun-hyung. To celebrate him getting the role in the musical.”

Myungjun stepped out from behind Minhyuk, keeping one hand on his shoulder. “We planned on telling the team eventually.”

“Eventually?” Jinwoo echoed. “When? After you ran off to Canada to get married?”

Minhyuk flinched.

“It’s only been a couple of months, and we’re still figuring things out.” Myungjun sounded unfairly calm. 

His clothes and hair were a mess, and he had a kiss-bruise on his throat, and oh no, they’d been too careless, the stylists would kill them, Manager would kill them, _Jinwoo_ would kill them. Minhyuk clung to Myungjun, heart racing.

Jinwoo scanned the den behind them: the remains of a large homemade meal, the cake, the empty champagne bottle and flutes. “Seems like you’ve figured out how to have a good time when the rest of us aren’t around.”

“This was the first time we’ve ever had a chance to just be together,” Myungjun said quietly. “No interruptions. No lying. No fear or shame.”

“The company doesn’t care if we’re gay,” Minhyuk said, finally finding words. “You know that.”

Jinwoo had taken a lot of heat when he’d started dating his girlfriend, but since they’d waited till after the team’s dating ban was over to make their relationship official, management had been accepting, so long as the two of them were very careful.

“You know the rules,” Jinwoo said quietly.

Minhyuk bit his lip and lowered his gaze.

“Hyung,” Jinwoo said.

Myungjun lifted his chin. “I’ll take responsibility for anything that happens -”

“I kissed him first,” Minhyuk said quickly.

Myungjun sighed. “Minhyukie -”

“I’ve been in love with him since I was sixteen,” Minhyuk added.

Jinwoo rocked back on his heels. “Sixteen?”

Minhyuk nodded. “Hyung. Please. I -”

Jinwoo narrowed his eyes at Myungjun. “Did you know?”

“When he was sixteen? No! He was just a kid.” 

Minhyuk flinched but didn’t say anything. He had never really been _just a kid,_ not since the day he’d been accepted as a trainee.

Myungjun tossed his head. “No. But - my feelings for him have been growing for a while.”

“How long?” Jinwoo asked.

“A couple of years,” Myungjun admitted.

A surge of warmth eased the sting from Myungjun’s _just a kid_ comment.

Jinwoo sighed and closed his eyes, looking deeply, deeply pained.

Minhyuk peered at him. “Hyung? What are you going to do?”

“First of all, we have to tell the others,” Jinwoo said. “Because we’re switching room assignments. Hyung, you’re with me. Binnie can take your spot.”

“That’s fine,” Myungjun said.

“We have to tell management,” Jinwoo added. “You know we do.”

Minhyuk and Myungjun both nodded.

Jinwoo scrubbed a hand over his face and groaned. “And here I thought my day was going well because we got done at the studio early.”

Minhyuk said, meekly, “Would you like some cake? It’s probably thawed enough to cut easily now.”

Jinwoo peered between his fingers at them and said, “Yes. Yes I want some cake. I want so much cake right now even though I should be on a diet. We should all be on diets -”

“Not Myungjun,” Minhyuk cut in, because the last thing he wanted was for Jinwoo to undo all the progress Myungjun had made as far as eating at least three meals a day and working out in a healthy way. “Between rehearsals for the musical and for the next comeback, and the concerts on the schedule -”

Jinwoo stomped across the den and plopped down at the table at the spot that had been Minhyuk’s and said, “I’d like some cake now.”

Minhyuk scrambled to cut him a piece. Myungjun resumed his former seat.

Minhyuk served Jinwoo a piece, then darted a nervous glance at Myungjun. “Do you want a piece? I can cut one for you.”

“Just a small one,” Myungjun said, his voice uncharacteristically meek.

If Minhyuk had thought being in a small space with a Songbird was bad, being next to Jinwoo as he radiated disappointment and disapproval was worse. He served up a small slice of cake for Myungjun, and then a small one for himself, because not eating while the others were eating would be weird, but he wasn’t all that hungry anymore. 

Jinwoo sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Minhyuk-ah.”

“Hyung?”

“Your shirt. Fix it.”

“Oh? Oh!” Minhyuk dropped his fork and hurriedly buttoned up his shirt, blushing all the way to the roots of his hair. Then he wolfed down his slice of cake and sat, fidgeting, while Myungjun picked at his and Jinwoo went in for a second slice like a drunk woman on a drama who’d just ruined her chances with the leading man.

“Are you angry at us?” Myungjun asked after Jinwoo finally set his fork down and sat back.

Jinwoo sighed again. “I’d be lying if I said no, but - I’m angry at you for lying to me. I can’t be angry at you for how you feel. I mean - it’s how you feel. You didn’t choose to feel that way. And it sounds like you two restrained yourselves for a very long time, so...I just...things are already so complicated for our team as it is. Give me some time, all right? To process this and handle it. We’ll tell the others when they get back, and then decide as a team how to approach management, all right?”

Minhyuk nodded. “Thanks, hyung.”

Myungjun nodded as well.

“Don’t thank me yet,” Jinwoo said.

An awkward silence fell between them, almost as awkward as when they’d first been properly introduced to each other as having been selected for a debut team.

“What now?” Myungjun asked.

“I was going to go on a date with my girlfriend, but I can’t leave you two here unsupervised, so -”

“We’re not children,” Myungjun said, his tone growing sharp. It was too easy, sometimes, to forget that he was the oldest of them.

“I’ll start cleaning up.” Minhyuk slid out of his seat and started clearing the table, keeping his motions as small and unobtrusive as possible.

“Help him clean up,” Jinwoo said. “And then we can see about you changing places with Binnie.”

A mulish expression stole over Myungjun’s face.

“It’s not like ever we had sex while Sanha was in the room with us,” Minhyuk protested in a small voice, which made Myungjun blush and Jinwoo flinch.

“Aish. Don’t - let’s not talk about that. Of course you wouldn’t.” Jinwoo squeezed his eyes shut and made a dismissive gesture with one hand. “I think this might be worse than the time I went home for a weekend from training and caught my parents making out on the couch like a pair of teenagers.”

“Sorry,” Minhyuk said.

Myungjun shook out his shoulders. “It’s fine. Even though we’d never do something like that, Sanha would probably be uncomfortable. This is what’s best for everyone. Except maybe Binnie.”

Jinwoo nodded and retreated to the couch, though Minhyuk could feel his eyes on them as they did the dishes. Ordinarily, standing side-by-side with Myungjun and doing something as domestic as cleaning up the kitchen would have been happy, pleasant, even if the rest of the team were about, because it was a closeness no one would be suspicious of, and it felt like - like being _family_ in way that was beyond their closeness as brothers and teammates.

Myungjun went to reach past Minhyuk for a dish towel to start drying the dishes, and Minhyuk saw he wouldn’t be able to reach it on his own, so he went to hand it to him.

“Thanks,” Myungjun said.

Their fingers were still tangled together.

Minhyuk snatched his hand back. “Sorry.” He resumed scrubbing dishes vigorously.

Myungjun sighed. He twisted around to look over his shoulder. “Yah. Look at what you’ve done.”

Jinwoo, who’d been dozing on the couch, opened his eyes and lifted his head. “What? What did I do?”

“Minhyukie flinches every time I touch him like he’s afraid of me.”

“Myungjunnie,” Minhyuk said, half protest, half apology.

Jinwoo frowned. “You let him speak informally to you?”

Myungjun shrugged. “No, but I don’t do hyung-dongsaeng when I’m dating.” 

Jinwoo groaned. “You two dating is so weird, all right? It’s just - it’s just weird. I’m sorry. I don’t mean to make it awkward for you. It’s already awkward for me.”

“Sorry, hyung,” Minhyuk said.

Myungjun swatted at him. “Don’t apologize. There’s nothing wrong with our relationship.”

Jinwoo raised his eyebrows.

“Stupid company rules aside,” Myungjun said. “And besides - it’s not in our contract, not like the dating ban was.”

“True,” Jinwoo said slowly. 

Minhyuk cleared his throat. “How about we watch a movie or something? Till the others get back. It’s something we can do comfortably together.”

“Or video games,” Myungjun said, lighting up. “I haven’t played in a while.”

Jinwoo narrowed his eyes. “No, you haven’t. Every time the rest of us play, you two are _sleeping.”_

Minhyuk ducked his head. “Well, you all are really loud, so if we’re really quiet -”

“Argh!” Jinwoo clapped his hands over his eyes. “Really?”

Myungjun shrugged. “Video game time is down time. We can do what we want with our down time.”

“Then you two being fitness buddies? Or working on a new drama OST cover?” Jinwoo peered between his fingers at them.

Myungjun flicked water in his direction, tutting. “We’re professionals. I _have_ been working out, thank you very much. And Minhyuk’s cover song has the draft recorded. It just needs some mixing adjustments.”

Minhyuk nodded earnestly. “He has been working out really well. Have you seen his abs lately?”

“Really?” Jinwoo said, then winced. “No! Don’t show me your abs. It’s fine. Just - video games. Let’s play some video games till the others get home.”

Spending private time with Myungjun wasn’t the only reason Minhyuk avoided video games.

He was bad at them. He was the worst at them. Myungjun and Jinwoo had been invited to that idol video game program for a reason. They were both killer at video games. At first Minhyuk - sitting primly on the other side of Jinwoo - tried to stay in the game, but after it became apparent that he would just be cannon fodder round after round he gave up and curled up at Myungjun’s feet, trying not to sulk too much. 

Eventually he migrated up onto the couch beside Myungjun, curled close and watching him play and, both as an annoyance to Jinwoo and out of loyalty to his boyfriend, cheering for him whenever he defeated Jinwoo in a round of virtual combat. 

“Why don’t you ever cheer for me?” Jinwoo protested. 

“I should always cheer for my boyfriend,” Minhyuk said.

Myungjun preened.

Jinwoo shook his head. “That’s how it’s going to be, is it?”

“When it comes to team things, I’ll treat everyone as my teammate, but right now, this is down time, and during down time with my boyfriend, he comes first.” Minhyuk punctuated his declaration with a peck on Myungjun’s cheek.

He was exaggerating his behavior a bit, but the sentiment was sincere.

Jinwoo said, “I wish I was with my girlfriend.”

“You can still go be with her, you know,” Myungjun said. “We won’t run off to Canada to get married while you’re gone.”

Jinwoo eyed them. 

“Bin and Sanha won’t be home for hours and you know it,” Myungjun said. 

Minhyuk added, “You know if you leave and we have sex after you’re gone it won’t be the first time, right?”

Jinwoo turned bright red. “I know, I do. It’s just - argh.” He scrubbed his hands over his face. “Fine. I’m going to see Nayoung. You two just - clean the dorm or something. Whatever.” He tossed aside his controller and stood up and started for the door.

“Take Nayoung a slice of cake,” Minhyuk called after him.

Jinwoo veered toward the freezer.

While he was cutting a slice of cake and boxing it up carefully, Myungjun turned off the laptop and television and put the gaming controllers away. 

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” Jinwoo said as he toed on his shoes.

“Tell Nayoung hello for us,” Minhyuk said.

Jinwoo nodded and departed.

As soon as the door clicked shut behind him, Minhyuk and Myungjun looked at each other.

“Well?” Myungjun asked.

“That could have gone worse,” Minhyuk said.

“True. But I meant, well, what now? What should we do with our time now that Jinwoo is gone?” Myungjun stepped closer to Minhyuk.

“We have a better guarantee that the others will be gone for a while,” Minhyuk said. “Earlier you said something about doing it slow, trying to make me scream. Still think you can do it?”

Myungjun grabbed Minhyuk’s wrist and dragged him toward the bedroom. “I bet I can.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Myungjun does have abs. Also go check out Super Five. They have two songs out now! 
> 
> [Hello](https://youtu.be/icdyUPnDVhc)
> 
> [All Eyes On Me](https://youtu.be/icdyUPnDVhc)


	11. Chapter 11

Minhyuk came awake slowly. He was warm and happy, tangled up with Myungjun, bare skin on bare skin beneath cozy sheets. Myungjun was already awake, leaning up on one elbow and looking down at him.

Minhyuk smiled. “Hey, Myungjunnie, my Myungjunnie.”

“Hey, Minhyukie.”

Minhyuk leaned in and kissed the tip of Myungjun’s nose. “I love you.”

Myungjun’s smile was slow and sweet but brighter than the sun. He wrapped his arms around Minhyuk and pulled him close. Minhyuk tucked himself against Myungjun’s chest, listening to his heart. 

“Love you too,” Myungjun murmured.

“Why didn’t you wake me?”

“I liked watching you sleep.”

They didn’t get many moments like this, stillness and quiet, just the two of them in their own little world. 

Minhyuk pulled back, gazed into Myungjun’s eyes.

“No matter what happens, I won’t give up on you,” he said.

Myungjun said, “I won’t give up on you either.”

Minhyuk smiled and kissed Myungjun again. When it was just the two of them like this, Minhyuk could shut out everything else, the looming stress of comeback, of their fans and the company, their parents, their -

“Hey, what should we order for dinner?” Sanha asked, opening the bedroom door, and then he screamed.

Minhyuk swore and yanked the covers over their heads. Dammit. He should have heard his teammates come home. Why hadn’t he heard?

“I’m so sorry,” he said to Myungjun.

“Hyung! Minhyuk brought a girl back to the dorm!” Sanha shouted. “We have to - we have to wait out here. And. Um. Should we go into your room? Pretend we didn’t see her?”

_ “ _ Minhyuk did w _ hat?” _ Bin demanded. “Where’s Myungjun-hyung?”

“He must have left so Minhyuk could have some privacy. It was so terrible. They were naked!”

“And Sanha’s always insisting he’s an adult.” Myungjun shook his head and tugged the covers down. “Best get dressed and face the music. I’ll text Jinwoo.”

Minhyuk groaned. “All right. How unlucky are we? Twice in one day.”

“At least Sanha didn’t walk in while you were screaming my name,” Myungjun pointed out.

“I made you scream first.” Minhyuk slid out of the warm cocoon of Myungjun’s bed and pulled on clean clothes, smoothed down his hair vaguely with one hand.

Myungjun grinned. “I made you scream louder.”

“Do we have to call Jinwoo? Or Manager-nim? Make the girl sign something? This has never happened before! Or has it, and Minhyuk has never said anything? Is that why he never has a solo schedule?” Sanha sounded like he was hyperventilating.

“I can hear you,” Minhyuk shouted through the door.

“Next time lock the door!” Sanha shouted back.

Minhyuk stepped out of the bedroom and pulled the door shut behind him so Myungjun could finish dressing. “Look, we fell asleep. I’m sorry. I thought you’d be gone longer.” He squinted at his watch. “We fell asleep for a long time.”

Bin was leaning against the kitchen counter. His expression was - angry? Disappointed? “I thought you were gay. When we were trainees and the trainee manager had the dating talk with us -”

_ “Hyung?” _ Sanha’s voice cracked.

“And you say you can’t hit falsetto.” Myungjun stepped into the den, smoothing down his hair absently.

Bin’s eyes went wide. “Hyung? You and Minhyuk -?”

“We were planning on telling everyone today,” Myungjun said.

“Only because you got caught.” Jinwoo breezed into the apartment, laden with bags of takeout from their favorite restaurant. 

“You knew?” Sanha whipped around to stare at Jinwoo, eyes wide.

“I caught them making out earlier today,” Jinwoo said.

Sanha spluttered. “How could you two just -? You were _ naked together _ in  _ Myungjun-hyung’s bed _ and - have you ever done it in my bed?  _ Have you?” _

Myungjun rolled his eyes. “For goodness’ sakes, no. We’re not like that.”

“Naked?” Jinwoo echoed. “Wow, once the cat’s out of the bag, you two really don’t care.”

Minhyuk knew he was blushing hard. “Look, we fell asleep and we’re sorry, all right? Management is going to yell at us as it is. It would be nice if the people we care about most could be at least a little supportive about our relationship.”

“And do I really look like a girl? Really?” Myungjun glared at Sanha.

“Ah - no. I just assumed. Sorry, hyung.” Sanha cast a look at Bin. “How did you know Minhyuk was gay?”

“Surely the trainee manager gave you the dating talk,” Bin said.

Sanha nodded.

“He gave me and Minhyuk the talk at the same time, and so we told him who we liked,” Bin said.

The dating talk had been so uncomfortable, but Bin and Minhyuk had admitted they both liked boys, and the trainee manager had been relieved, since it meant they’d be less likely to be lured by a song-eater, and then said that once their dating ban was lifted, if they wanted to date anyone, they had to let management know, and management would help protect the relationship so long as they were discreet - and it wasn’t someone else on the team.

Bin looked at Minhyuk. “How long have you two been dating?”

“Just a couple of months,” Minhyuk said.

“Maybe we should wait till Eunwoo is home so we don’t have to explain it over and over again.” Myungjun curled his hand through Minhyuk’s and squeezed comfortingly. They curled up on the couch together.

“Explain what?” Eunwoo asked, kicking off his shoes. 

“Myungjun and Minhyuk are dating,” Sanha burst out.

Eunwoo raised his eyebrows. “Someone else caught you, then?”

Jinwoo paused in laying out the food on the table. “You knew?”

Eunwoo said, “Pretty sure I walked in on their first kiss. It was when I was just coming home from that magazine shoot in Milan.”

“You  _ saw?” _ Myungjun echoed. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Eunwoo shrugged and padded into the den, went to help himself to one of the potstickers Jinwoo had just laid out. “It was just a small kiss. I didn’t know if anything else came of it. Besides, I figured if it got serious you’d tell us on your own.”

Jinwoo looked betrayed. “You knew and you didn’t tell me?”

“Not really my business, is it?” Eunwoo’s tone was light, but he looked right at Minhyuk and caught his gaze, held it.

Terror lanced down Minhyuk’s spine.

Eunwoo  _ knew. _ Eunwoo was a Songbird and he’d witnessed their first kiss, the kiss where Minhyuk had almost drunk some of Myungjun’s voice.

Then Eunwoo looked away, turned to Jinwoo. “So it must be quite serious. Or they got careless.”

Myungjun said, “There’s leftover cake, by the way.”

“Cake for what?” Bin asked. “‘Oops, we got found out?’”

“Minhyuk bought me an ice cream cake to say congratulations on getting the lead role in the musical,” Myungjun said. “Jinwoo stress-ate a couple of big pieces when he came home from the studio unexpectedly early and interrupted our celebration, but there should be enough for everyone else.”

“You two are shameless,” Sanha said, but he headed for the freezer in search of cake.

“Let’s eat,” Jinwoo said, “and then Myungjun and Minhyuk will answer all our questions about them dating. Right?”

“Only appropriate questions,” Myungjun said primly, but he stood up from the couch and towed Minhyuk over to the table.

“You don’t care about appropriate! I caught you naked!” Sanha’s voice was muffled from behind the freezer door. 

Minhyuk barely heard him. His heart roared in his ears. Eunwoo knew Minhyuk was a song-eater. He’d known for a while. He’d said nothing. He’d asked Minhyuk if he’d kill another song-eater in defense of his team. Had Eunwoo told the other Songbirds about him? Or even suggested the notion of a male song-eater, a song-eater who could sing? Were Songbirds spreading the word, getting ready to rout any male song-eaters they came across?

Myungjun tugged Minhyuk down into the chair beside him, served him some food. Eunwoo sat opposite him, serving Jinwoo and Bin politely.

“Aren’t you going to eat?” Myungjun asked.

Minhyuk blinked. The plate in front of him was full. He shoved his chair back. “I’m sorry. I need some air. Please excuse me.” And he fled for the little balcony.

He fished his phone out of his pocket with shaking hands. He had to call his mother and warn her. He -

A hand closed over his wrist.

“Stay calm.”

Eunwoo’s voice, which had always seemed deep and soothing, made Minhyuk’s blood run cold. He looked up at his hyung and his mind spun with calculations and probabilities. Could he fight off Eunwoo? What were his chances of success? Eunwoo was between him and the door, but if he jumped off the balcony he could probably catch a balcony a couple of floors down without too much trouble.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” Eunwoo’s voice was calm and even, but Minhyuk’s heart was racing.

“Tell me, Park Minhyuk, are you a song-eater?”

The old mantra rose through the fog in Minhyuk’s mind.

_ Deny, deny, deny, and if they refuse to believe, die. _

Minhyuk jerked free. “Of course not. I’m a boy. And I can sing.”

“I saw you kiss Myungjun. I heard what happened to the music. I saw what happened after.” Eunwoo’s gaze was strangely bright, fervent.

Minhyuk lifted his chin. “I don’t know what you think you heard or saw, but I’m not a song-eater. It’s impossible. You’re a Songbird. You should know.” 

“I know what I saw,” Eunwoo said again, softly, insistently. “I’ve been around Songbirds and song-eaters all my life. I know what it sounds like when a song-eater feeds. Do you really love Myungjun, or do you just like the way his voice tastes?”

“Yes I really love him! I’ve been in love with him since I was sixteen. I did everything I could do to hide it, all right? Everything. And I’d do anything for him now.” Minhyuk drew himself up to his full height. “But I’m  _ not _ a song-eater.”

Guilt roiled in him again, because Myungjun’s voice was beautiful, and it was delicious, and that one tiny taste had almost undone him.

Before Minhyuk knew what was what, Eunwoo whistled, two crystal-clear notes, and he was holding a long silver knife in his hand.

The charm on his silver bracelet was gone.

Eunwoo had the knife to Minhyuk’s throat in an instant. Minhyuk hissed and struggled, but the blade bit into his skin and  _ burned,  _ and he froze.

Eunwoo’s eyes went wide. “You really are a song-eater. How -?”

That mantra ran through Minhyuk’s mind again.

_ And if they refuse to believe, die. _

He swallowed hard and closed his eyes.  _ Myungjunnie, Eomma, I’m so sorry. _

He opened his eyes, grabbed the blade, and dragged it toward his heart.

Eunwoo swore and recoiled, whistled sharply, and the blade was gone.

Blood dripped from the charm on his bracelet - and Minhyuk’s hands and throat.

“What the hell? Were you going to kill yourself?” Eunwoo stared at him.

Minhyuk took a deep breath. “I won’t tell you anything. I won’t betray my kind. If you try to make me -”

Eunwoo grabbed his wrists. “Dammit. You’re bleeding. How will we explain this to the others? How would I have explained to the others if you’d died just now?”

Minhyuk laughed, the sound a little hysterical. “How do you ever explain it to anyone when you capture another person and cut her tongue out? No judge or jury, just you, with your blindness and your silver blades? How would you explain it to the little boys and girls, the men and women whose wives, mothers, daughters, sisters, don’t come home?”

Eunwoo fell back a step. “No. Song-eaters are -”

“Monsters? I know. I’ve heard it all my life. We deserve to die as soon as you discover us, right?” Minhyuk had felt oddly calm and content and weightless, knowing that he didn’t have to hide his relationship with Myungjun anymore. The words spilling out of him now were an entire lifetime’s burdens, and he was casting them to the wind without a care. He’d die after this, fling himself off the balcony if he had to, because he had all the rest of his kind to think about, but he wasn’t going without a good parting shot.

“Ever killed a song-eater, but instead of screams when you cut out her tongue, it was just a sweet chorus of voices?”

Eunwoo nodded.

“That means she’s never killed anyone. All the voices she’s taken have been partial, or given willingly.”

Eunwoo said, “What?”

Minhyuk tilted his head. “How many of those song-eaters have you killed? You said you have seventy-six solo kills to your name, right? How many of them were women who’d never killed anyone?”

Eunwoo turned pale. 

“I’ve never killed anyone. If you were to cut out my tongue now, you’d hear almost nothing. But you’re not going to cut out my tongue. I’m not going to let you. And I’m not going to help you destroy any more of my kind, so.” Minhyuk turned and hoisted himself up onto the balcony railing.

“What are you doing?” Eunwoo caught him around the waist and dragged him backward. 

Minhyuk fought, drew on his true strength and threw Eunwoo off. 

There was a high whistled note, and then fire exploded around Minhyuk’s ankle. He looked down, and a shining silver whip was wrapped around his ankle.

Eunwoo’s necklace was gone.

“Stop!” Eunwoo begged. “I promise I won’t hurt you. And I won’t - I won’t tell anyone. I just - please. If something happens to you, the others - Myungjun -”

“I’ve been prepared my whole life to die to defend my kind, just like you’ve been prepared to kill my kind,” Minhyuk said. Tears burned in his eyes, but he knew what he had to do.

“Please,” Eunwoo said. “I just - if what you’re saying is true, there’s so much I don’t know, that Songbirds don’t know. We could -” 

“Hunt my kind better and more efficiently? Never.” Minhyuk reached down to grab the whip and loose it.

Eunwoo whistled again, and the whip vanished. “Minhyukie, please. I promise. I won’t hurt you, and I won’t tell the others. Just - help me to understand. If I’ve been hurting innocent people, I need to understand.” 

“How can I trust you?”

“Same way I’m going to trust you, right? If I let you go, I’m trusting you not to eat any of the others.”

Minhyuk stared at him. “I’ve lived with most of them a hell of a lot longer than you have. I’m not the one who’s at risk of hurting any of my teammates.” His ankle was on fire, but if he got out of this encounter alive, he could fire up that live music radio station, drink some instrumental music and heal himself.

Eunwoo said, “When we’re in the dorm, I’ll take off my jewelry, all right? And - and leave my phone and laptop in the den so you can see I’m not sneaking messages to the other Songbirds.” He looked pale - and sick.  _ “Please.” _

He unclasped his bracelet and let it fall to the ground. His rings and necklace followed.

Minhyuk said, “Do you swear?”

Eunwoo nodded.

“On your little brother’s life.”

Eunwoo swallowed hard and nodded again.

Minhyuk said, “Fine. I’ll answer your questions. Some of them. Only the ones that are relevant.”

“Thank you. And I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. But - you can’t go back inside looking like that. The others will see.”

Minhyuk looked down at his hands and grimaced. “Do you have your phone with you?”

“My phone?” Eunwoo was already fishing it out of his pocket and unlocking it.

“I can drink a song or two and heal up.”

“I thought only live voices could feed a song-eater.”

“They’re the best source of energy, but live instrumental music can be useful. It’s diluted over a radio station or web-stream, but it’s still better than nothing,” Minhyuk said. 

“I have a radio app on my phone.” Eunwoo tapped at it carefully.

Minhyuk told him the name of the radio station, and a moment later soaring trumpets filled the air above the city din from below. Minhyuk inhaled deeply, and the music went muffled, wavering, like it was playing underwater. Energy sparked in his veins, and he directed it to his wounds.

Eunwoo was staring at him, half-spooked, half-awed. “What happens to the musicians?”

“They might feel a bit more fatigued than usual after playing. If I’m not careful, I could damage their instruments, but that’s only in a live instrumental performance,” Minhyuk said.

“If you can use instrumental music, why use human voices at all?” Eunwoo asked.

“It’s a more concentrated energy source, usually for something bigger. Like - healing a sick child. Curing a loved one’s cancer, maybe.” Minhyuk kept an eye on his wounds, made sure they were closing steadily. They wouldn’t scar.

Eunwoo cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, did you say  _ curing cancer?” _

“If you can get enough energy, get to the patient on time to share it before it’s diluted,” Minhyuk said.

“Then - what Sanha found in my notes about song-sharing.” Eunwoo narrowed his eyes. “It can be used to cure a song-eater who has cancer?”

“Not just a song-eater,” Minhyuk said softly.

“If song-eaters can cure cancer, then why aren’t they -”

“Going around and drinking music and getting murdered by Songbirds before they can get back to their loved ones with the songs they’ve collected?” Minhyuk raised his eyebrows, then concentrated on healing his neck and ankle.

Eunwoo bit his lip and looked away. Then he said, “You have blood on your clothes. You have to change before the others see.”

“You would know,” Minhyuk said coolly. 

“How long will healing take?”

“Since you hit me with divine silver? At least another song. It would be faster if I had a human voice, but times being what they are.” Minhyuk shrugged and drank down a particularly sweet piano solo. 

Eunwoo said, “I’ll go get you a jacket to cover up. And if the others ask, we were out here talking about songwriting.”

“Punny,” Minhyuk drawled. 

“I’ve been thinking about it for a while. I have some lyrics, but I’m not great at writing melodies, and Myungjun is busy with the musical and Jinwoo has been busy producing his song for the next album, so…”

“Songwriting. Sure. I’ll do what I can to help.” Minhyuk nodded. 

Eunwoo slipped back inside. 

Minhyuk concentrated on drinking the music and healing himself. He stared at Eunwoo’s fallen weapons and wondered if he’d just condemned his family and countless other song-eaters he didn’t even know. 

Eunwoo returned with one of Minhyuk’s jackets. Minhyuk rolled up his sleeves to hide the blood stains, and then pulled on the jacket. The only person who’d see was the cleaning lady who did the laundry, and she was paid well to ask no questions (and tell no stories).

Eunwoo picked up his jewelry and pocketed it, and together they headed back inside.

“You two took forever,” Bin said, eyeing them.

Eunwoo smiled and ducked his head apologetically. “We got to talking about a song we might try to write together. I didn’t mean to distract your boyfriend for so long.” Eunwoo ushered Minhyuk toward the empty seat beside Myungjun.

Minhyuk sat down and dug into his food even though it was cold.

“A new song?” Sanha asked. 

Eunwoo nodded. “I have some lyrics I’ve been working on, but Minhyuk has more experience writing melodies.”

“You missed Myungjun telling us all about their whirlwind romance,” Bin said, his tone amused but something in his expression unreadable.

Minhyuk glanced at Myungjun. “You didn’t say anything embarrassing, did you?”

“Other than that you’ve been manfully pining for me since you were sixteen and then one day you couldn’t hold back any longer and swept me off my feet with a devastating kiss?” Myungjun batted his eyelashes and smiled guilelessly.

His smile made some of the weight in Minhyuk’s chest ease. “Pretty sure I kissed you for half a second, you started coughing, and then Eunwoo arrived home - or pretended he’d just arrived home - and we didn’t get to talk about it for two more whole days. And then  _ you _ kissed  _ me.” _

“Since you were sixteen? Really?” Sanha asked. “We were still trainees then.”

“What can I say? I have excellent self-control.” Minhyuk shrugged. 

Eunwoo cast him a look. Minhyuk only met his gaze briefly.

“While you were gone, we decided that maybe it’d be best if you and Myungjun had the two-person room,” Jinwoo said. “Binnie and I can share with Sanha -”

“But Sanha’s banished to the top bunk,” Bin said. 

“Since there’s no point in separating you. You’re not children. And we’ll tell management that we’re supportive of your relationship. You didn’t enter it hastily, and we’ll do our best to protect you.” Jinwoo smiled. “How does that sound?”

“It sounds perfect. Thanks, hyung. And Binnie, too. For giving up your room.” Minhyuk smiled at them.

Jinwoo nodded. “Excellent! Now - let’s work together to make the room switch. After we clean up.”

Minhyuk nodded. “All right.”

He was pretty sure his life was the opposite of all right, but in this moment, with the man he loved and his best friends supporting them, this was probably as good as it was ever going to get.

While people were packing and rearranging furniture, Minhyuk managed to change out of his bloodstained clothes and into clean ones without anyone noticing. Eunwoo cast him a knowing look that was mingled with if not sympathy, maybe camaraderie. Jinwoo scheduled a team meeting with management via email while everyone else was wrestling with rearranging the beds in the two-person room, and tomorrow was going to be an early start and a serious day, so they’d all best be well-rested.

As promised, Eunwoo left his phone and laptop in the den to charge, but he slept with his jewelry on.

Songbirds weren’t the only ones with music magic, though. While Myungjun was getting ready for bed, Minhyuk whistled a soft tune of his own, a simple ward to guard their room from harm, the same one he put on the main door each night before bed.

Then he crawled into the big double bed - they’d pushed the two beds together - and waited for Myungjun to join him.

Falling asleep curled beside his boyfriend, able to wake up with him for the first time, should have been one of the best moments in Minhyuk’s life. But he couldn’t fall asleep, didn’t dare, waiting for Songbird magic to cut through his own, and also playing out all the possibilities of how the meeting with management would go tomorrow.

“Stop it,” Myungjun murmured sleepily, tucked against Minhyuk’s side, warm and soft and perfect.

“Sorry?”

“Stop thinking so loud. I can tell you’re worrying.” Myungjun nuzzled Minhyuk’s throat. “Just sleep.” 

“Sorry, Myungjunnie.”

“Don’t apologize. Need me to count sheep for you?”

Minhyuk shook his head.

Myungjun danced his fingers just under the hem of the tank top Minhyuk slept in. “Want me to distract you another way?”

For one moment, Minhyuk was tempted, because getting out of his head and being just in his body sounded like fun, but - no. Myungjun deserved better, deserved all his attention and focus and love. Sex wasn’t supposed to be a distraction. Minhyuk shook his head and wrapped his arms around Myungjun, pulled him close.

“All I need is you,” he said quietly. “I love you. No matter what happens - tomorrow, the next day, any day after that, I’ll be here for you. I’ll do anything for you. I’ll still love you.”

Myungjun said, “I love you too.”

Minhyuk squeezed his eyes shut. He wanted to say,  _ I’ll never leave you, _ and he wanted to hear Myungjun say,  _ I’ll never leave you either, _ but those were promises neither of them could make, and Minhyuk had lied so many times already. 

“Good night,” he whispered. “Sweet dreams.”

Myungjun hummed happily, already half asleep.

Minhyuk held him close and prayed,  _ Please let me stay with you. _


	12. Chapter 12

“Unacceptable. You have to break up. Immediately.”

Minhyuk and Myungjun sat huddled close, hands clasped tightly underneath the conference table. Their teammates were on either side of them, supportive and protective, while Manager stood in the corner, expression impassive. The CEO and someone else from senior management - Manager called her Team-jangnim - stood over them. Sajangnim looked furious but had said nothing, leaving it to Team-jangnim.

Jinwoo said, “We’re supportive of their relationship. They haven’t done anything disruptive to the team dynamics, and they haven’t been distracted from their work.”

Even though Jinwoo was the team leader, the others had agreed he shouldn’t shoulder the burden of the meeting alone.

Bin said, “They’ve been working hard and helping each other, and it’s been better for the team.”

Team-jangnim tossed her head. “You know the rules. No dating within a team, or -”

“There’s nothing against it in our contracts,” Eunwoo said quietly. 

Team-jangnim glanced over her shoulder at Sajangnim, who looked even more furious but nodded tightly.

“We have a comeback coming up,” Sanha said. “If they break up, they’ll be miserable. It’ll ruin our energy. Fans will notice. Rumors will start, about the entire team breaking up.”

“As opposed to them breaking up later and ruining a subsequent comeback or an entire tour?” Team-jangnim had her arms crossed tightly over her chest.

“Why do you assume we’ll break up?” Myungjun asked.

Team-jangnim tossed her head again. “Everyone breaks up. So you woke up one day and decided he was hot. It won’t last.”

“Our friendship has lasted this long,” Minhyuk said quietly. “We’ve seen each other at our very best and our very worst.”

Jinwoo said, “Being without our center on the last comeback was very difficult. Blue Flame deserved a win and we all know it. None of us blame Bin, because his health comes first.”

Bin ducked his head anyway.

“He needed to heal. That was unavoidable. Having our main vocalist _and_ our main dancer at less than their best during this comeback will be unfair for our fans,” Jinwoo continued, his tone low and reasonable but relentless.

“Besides,” Sanha chimed in, “MJ-hyung will be so busy with the musical, they won’t have time to cause a scandal.”

Minhyuk’s chest tightened. What if management made Myungjun quit the musical as a punishment?

Sajangnim narrowed his eyes. “Not just the musical. Two online concerts. And you.” He leveled Minhyuk with a look. “We found a solo MC gig for you.”

Minhyuk sat up straighter, then bowed his head. “Yes, Sajangnim. Thank you.”

Sajangnim sneered. “Don’t thank me yet. Might as well get our money’s worth out of you before your romance dies and you crash and burn. Don’t forget - if you two screw up, you screw it up for the rest of your teammates.”

Myungjun squeezed Minhyuk’s hand reassuringly and lifted his chin. “We didn’t come this far to screw up now.”

“What’s this about concerts?” Jinwoo asked.

Manager stepped forward, then, and slid several copies of their new schedule across the table toward them.

Minhyuk let Myungjun’s hand go reluctantly and picked up the paper. It was awash in an eye-watering array of colors. Comeback showcase. All the comeback live stages on broadcast shows in the two weeks to follow. All the photoshoots and interviews and variety show appearances crammed in between the live stages. Sanha and Bin’s MC gigs. Eunwoo’s variety show schedule. Bin’s variety show schedule. Myungjun’s musical rehearsal and performance schedule. Two online concerts. Minhyuk’s solo MC schedule. The company really was trying to work them to death.

Manager explained about the concerts, what they would have to prepare for each. One performance was for a festival, with a bunch of other bands, but the other concert was just them. With how the song-eater scare had affected the music industry, live concerts had been canceled or postponed until more efficient security protocols could be arranged without the expense of an influx of Songbirds. To make up for the lack of live contact with fans, they’d be recording cute videos and having live video chats with fans before and after and maybe even during performances.

It was an amazing opportunity, but it would also be a lot of work.

Minhyuk squared his shoulders. He’d promised Myungjun he’d do anything for him, for their relationship, and he wasn’t about to back down now. He wasn’t afraid of hard work. They’d worked under brutal conditions as trainees. 

Jinwoo and Eunwoo peppered Manager with questions. Sanha took notes. Bin and Myungjun listened.

Minhyuk slid his hand back under the table and reached for Myungjun’s hand. Myungjun linked his pinkie with Minhyuk’s, and they stayed that way through the rest of the meeting. Even if Sajangnim was glaring at them hatefully, it didn’t matter. They were together, and they weren’t being punished too harshly.

Finally, Team-jangnim said, “If even a breath of this gets out, even a whisper of a rumor, you’re finished. Understand?”

Minhyuk nodded, wide-eyed. Beside him, Myungjun nodded as well, but he looked much calmer.

Sajangnim spun on his heel and headed for the door. 

Team-jangnim hurried after him.

Manager flopped down in the chair opposite Jinwoo and let out a gusty sigh. “You boys are trying to give me a heart attack before fifty, aren’t you?”

“I’m very sorry, Manager,” Minhyuk said in a low voice.

Manager made a dismissive gesture. “Don’t apologize. Feelings are what they are. I was starting to wonder when one of you would crack, anyway.”

Myungjun blinked. “Pardon?”

“You knew?” Jinwoo asked.

“I’m not blind. I don’t live with you all, but I see things. I know I’m not the same manager you had before, but I do care about you.” Manager scratched the back of his neck and sighed again. “Aish. Men aren’t supposed to talk about their feelings. Go on. Get out of here. You have a lot of work to do.”

They all rose and bowed to him with murmurs of _Yes, hyungnim,_ and then they scrambled out of the conference room.

“What now?” Sanha asked, as soon as they were out of earshot of the conference room.

“I should start choreographing my solo for that concert,” Bin said.

Myungjun said to Sanha, “We should start working on acoustic arrangements for the other concert.”

Jinwoo said, “I guess I should start choreographing our dance number to my song.”

Eunwoo put a hand on Minhyuk’s arm. “Let’s go work on our song.”

Their song.

Which was a cover for Minhyuk possibly damning his entire race to wholesale slaughter. But Minhyuk let Eunwoo tow him down the hall and to one of the little music rooms that had a keyboard, a whiteboard, and a bunch of other arranging and composing resources. Eunwoo set his laptop and phone on the table, and then he shed his jewelry. He let Minhyuk have the seat closest to the door.

Then he pulled a leatherbound journal out of his book bag - just like the other ones their teammates studied out of in the evenings - and uncapped a pen.

“Tell me what parts of song-eater lore are wrong.”

Minhyuk took a deep breath. “Almost everything.”

Eunwoo blinked.

Minhyuk said, “We call ourselves song-sharers.”

* * *

Eunwoo capped his pen and sat back. His face was pale, lips pressed into a thin line.

Finally, he said, “Some song-sharers are true song-eaters, murdering humans.”

“Some humans also murder other humans. They at least get a lawyer and a trial.” Minhyuk knew he should go easier on Eunwoo. Everything Eunwoo had believed for his whole life - he’d just been told it was wrong.

And he had little incentive to believe Minhyuk, really, since Minhyuk had every reason to lie to protect himself and others like him.

But on the whole, Minhyuk was a bad liar. He always lost at games of deception. He spoke his mind. And he hadn’t hurt any of his teammates, not once.

He’d explained his restraint to Eunwoo in terms easy for him to understand.

“Remember, when we were preparing for debut, how we only got to eat lean chicken breast for two months straight? Remember how strict our diet was, how hungry we were? And then remember how, the day we were filming the music video, Manager Jeong and the staff ordered hamburgers and ate them right there in front of us? Remember how Bin just about lost his mind? After the incident with the chocolate bar.”

Eunwoo had nodded. After all, he’d shared the chocolate bar with Bin.

“That’s what song-thirst is like. Whenever I’m tired or sore or sick, and I hear music, or one of you sings, or we’re in the recording studio together, or worse, when we’re live - that’s what it’s like. All the time. That hunger.”

And Eunwoo had closed his eyes and turned away.

Minhyuk had told Eunwoo all the broad strokes, about his kind perpetuating the myths so as to keep themselves safe - the ones who weren’t ‘beautiful’, the ones who could sing.

All the boys.

As Minhyuk had spoken, he’d recalled his own childhood, his mother desperately trying to find a balance between the strict discipline he needed for his own safety versus letting him just be a child. 

“Boys are never allowed to gather songs. If we’re sick or injured or too little and too thirsty to control ourselves, our mothers or sisters or grandmothers gather songs for us. It’s safer that way.”

That Minhyuk’s kind could have families, live quiet lives, had never occurred to Eunwoo or any other Songbird.

“Of course some of our kind go mad and kill. So do some of your kind. If you spend your whole life hearing you’re a monster and you deserve to die, you become hurt. You become angry. And sometimes you think to yourself, _I’ll show you what a monster really is.”_

As Minhyuk had spoken those words, he’d seen Eunwoo’s gaze turn inward, as he remembered all the times he’d made casual comments about how song-eaters were monsters, inhuman, deserved to die.

Eunwoo scrubbed his hands over his face. “How is it that no Songbird, ever, in the thousand-year history of Songbirds, has ever thought to question the lore?”

“Because song-sharers, in a bid for survival, have helped perpetuate the stereotypes.”

Eunwoo shook his head. “No. Bits and pieces of the truth exist. Like about sharing songs for healing.”

“You’ve seen how we song-sharers are raised. If someone starts to suspect the truth, we deny it, repeat the lies, or we die to keep the secret.” Minhyuk caught Eunwoo’s gaze and held it, but Eunwoo looked away.

Then he picked up his phone and unlocked it, hit a number on speed dial. The phone barely rang before someone answered.

“My son, what a surprise. I thought you had a full day of work today?” 

Minhyuk’s eyes went wide. Eunwoo had called his mother? She was a Songbird commander! She...had no idea Minhyuk was present, let alone that he was a song-sharer. Her tone was warm and fond, totally unlike the way she’d addressed Eunwoo and Minhyuk at that broadcast station.

Eunwoo took a deep breath. “Could a song-eater learn to sing?”

“No. A song-eater could no more learn to sing than a human could live off of drinking his own blood.” Eunwoo’s mother’s tone turned cautious, less warm.

“Could a song-eater feed without killing?”

“It’s theoretically possible, the same way a human could walk away from an unfinished meal, but - why are you asking stupid questions?” Eunwoo’s mother’s tone was sharp, angry.

But Eunwoo pressed on. “Could a song-eater give energy instead of just taking it?”

“That’s impossible.” 

Minhyuk leaned in, frowning. There was an edge to her tone that wasn’t just anger.

“Have you ever let a song-eater live?” Eunwoo asked.

“Of course not!” his mother snapped.

“Eomma,” Eunwoo said. “Can a song-eater ever be male?”

“What? You know that’s impossible.” 

Only there was a waver in her voice, one Minhyuk suspected only he heard. He looked at Eunwoo, but his gaze was inward, distant. His posture was closed.

“But we know they can have male children. If - if one of them survived. Could it be possible? A freak of nature thing. Like those two-headed dogs.” Eunwoo came out of his brooding long enough to cast Minhyuk an apologetic look for comparing him to a two-headed dog.

“Dongminnie,” his mother said, her voice low. “Have you - have you seen one?”

Eunwoo’s eyes went wide, but when he spoke, his voice was utterly calm. Minhyuk had never before appreciated what a skilled actor he was. “Of course not, Eomma. I was just wondering.”

“Lee Dongmin! I can only assume that Yoona-ssi is giving you silly ideas, but you know better than this. When you decided to take on the duties of a Songbird despite the inherent disadvantages of your sex, I agreed to train you and treat you like the daughter I should have had. Don’t waste your time or mine with any more silly speculation. Now go. Do your job and hunt properly.”

Minhyuk flinched at the woman’s tone. He’d always thought Eunwoo was adored and treasured as a firstborn son, like Bin was.

Eunwoo said, “Yes, Eomoni.” Then he said, in a small voice, “Tell me I’m pretty?”

“Goodbye, Dongmin.”

The call ended.

Eunwoo sat back, gnawing on his lower lip. His eyes were suspiciously bright, but then he straightened up, blinking rapidly. “Well, now I have the information I wanted.”

Minhyuk said, “She was lying about something. I can - I have better hearing than most humans. Especially when it comes to voices.”

Eunwoo nodded. “I’m sure you do.”

“I’m not sure what she was lying about,” Minhyuk admitted.

“I’m not sure either, but I do know that Yoona-sunbae knows what it is.” Eunwoo unlocked his phone some more, tapped at it rapidly.

“What are you doing?”

“Arranging a time to meet my noona, of course.” Eunwoo’s smile wasn’t sweet at all, was sharp like light glinting off the edge of a knife, and then he locked his phone and set it aside. “Now, about this song.”

* * *

At the end of the day, the team reassembled in the foyer of the company building and headed back to the dorm together.

They checked in with Jinwoo about their progress. Bin had fully choreographed his intro and had a video to show the others. Eunwoo had polished up his lyrics with Minhyuk’s help, and they’d figured out a melody for the chorus, with plans to have the final chorus sung by all of them, but instead of modulating up, they’d mod down so Jinwoo would have an easier time. Sanha and Myungjun had worked out most of an acoustic arrangement of one of their older ballads, and Sanha had the guitar part sorted, but they had plans to rework some harmonies, and also maybe Jinwoo would help them with the percussion. Jinwoo had plans for just the dance line to work with him, and he’d worked out some preliminary choreo as well.

Back at the dorm, they took turns showering and cleaning up. Myungjun ordered dinner for them.

Minhyuk stood staring into the refrigerator, mind still churning. He was putting so much trust in Eunwoo. But Eunwoo was his hyung, and Minhyuk had always trusted him before, even if they didn’t always get along. Eunwoo was trusting Minhyuk, too. Both of them had a lot to lose.

“Are you all right?”

Minhyuk tensed for just a moment when he sensed someone behind him, but it was Myungjun.

Myungjun wrapped his arms around Minhyuk’s waist and hooked his chin over Minhyuk’s shoulder. “What are you looking at?”

“Nothing. I was just - thinking. About the song Eunwoo and I are writing. I don’t even remember why I opened the fridge.”

Myungjun pushed it shut gently, then stepped back, steered Minhyuk around to face him. “Today was stressful, wasn’t it? You hate talking about your feelings even more than I do, and to have Sajangnim and Team-jangnim talk about them like they’re meaningless - it was hard, right?”

Minhyuk nodded. If he’d felt wrung out after that meeting, the discussion with Eunwoo after had left him empty.

But now he had Myungjun in his arms, and tonight they’d get to fall asleep together, and they’d get to wake up together, and this was more than he’d ever hoped for, back when he was sixteen and painfully in love with the oldest boy on the team, who seemed eternally just out of reach, with his child-like energy and cheer but his moments of profound calm and mature wisdom. Myungjun still joked around with Sanha and Jinwoo the most; sixteen-year-old Minhyuk had known that to beautiful, talented Myungjun he was nothing but a kid.

“It was hard for me too, but it turned out well, yes? So let’s have a nice meal and then relax and sleep well, hm?” Myungjun smiled, and Minhyuk couldn’t help but smile back at him.

He nodded, and when Myungjun leaned in to kiss him, he closed his eyes.

“Can you not do that in the kitchenette? It’s unhygienic,” Sanha said.

Minhyuk sighed and pulled back, opened his eyes. “We didn’t even kiss. And it would have been a small kiss. It’s not like he bent me over the counter next to the fruit bowl and -”

Sanha squeaked and clapped his hands over his ears.

Myungjun swatted Minhyuk lightly on the arm. “Yah, don’t tease him. It’s new and a bit strange to everyone.” He leaned in and lowered his voice. “And don’t go giving him the wrong idea about us.”

Minhyuk took advantage of Myungjun’s proximity to press a kiss to his cheek.

Sanha let out another squeak and squeezed his eyes shut.

Minhyuk rolled his eyes. “Whatever. When will the food get here?”

“In about fifteen minutes.”

That wasn’t long enough to settle in to watch a drama or anything, so they went and curled up on the loveseat together, limbs tangled comfortably, both of them poking at their phones.

Bin plopped down on the end of the couch closest to them and fired up his phone, likely to read some webtoons to unwind.

“Why is Sanha standing in front of the fridge with his eyes shut and his hands over his ears?” Jinwoo asked, sitting beside Bin. He had his laptop open to check his email.

“We were going to share one little kiss and he freaked out,” Minhyuk said.

Eunwoo called out, “Sanha! It’s fine now. Really.”

Sanha opened one eye, lowered one hand. “Have you ever done it in the kitchen?”

 _“Yah!”_ Myungjun said without looking up from his phone. “No. For the love of - no! Minhyuk was just messing with you.”

Satisfied with that answer, Sanha resumed getting himself a drink from the fridge.

“You have made out in the practice room during breaks in dance practice, though,” Eunwoo said.

Jinwoo looked up sharply. “What?”

Eunwoo arched an eyebrow, amused. “You noticed the evidence yourself, one time, a kiss-mark on Myungjun-hyung, but you thought Minhyuk had hurt him _wrestling_ or something.”

Jinwoo whipped around to glare at Myungjun and Minhyuk. “In the practice room at the company? Are you insane?”

“It was just once!” Myungjun protested. “Or...twice. Maybe three times. But never more than that, right, Minhyukie?”

Minhyuk nodded earnestly.

Jinwoo covered his ears with his hands. “If you’ve done riskier things than that, I don’t want to know, all right?”

“We really haven’t,” Minhyuk said.

Bin said, “I’m glad you two can be comfortable together now, though. And that when you confessed to each other, it went well. That’s rare, you know? Two people who like each other, at the same time, in the same place.”

Minhyuk caught the note of wistfulness in his voice, but the others missed it entirely. Minhyuk also noticed how Bin was very carefully not looking at Eunwoo, who was sitting at his feet while he read emails on Sanha’s laptop.

Myungjun’s phone buzzed with an incoming text from the restaurant’s delivery person. Sanha and Minhyuk, as the maknae line, were dispatched to fetch the food. Sanha tipped the delivery boy graciously, and then they raced back up to the dorm, the scent of the food making their stomachs rumble.

“Hyung,” Sanha said, as they reached the door. “I’m glad you’re happy with Myungjun-hyung. But - but if you ever hurt him -”

“I would rather die than hurt him,” Minhyuk said.

Sanha’s eyes went wide. _“Heol._ You really mean that. That’s kind of creepy and intense. But - okay. Let’s get dinner to the others before it gets cold.”

Minhyuk input the door code and held the door open so Sanha could go in first.

He’d meant what he said. Only Eunwoo knew just how prepared Minhyuk was to die for what mattered most to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another shorter chapter today.
> 
> Also I know IRL Eunwoo's mother is a very nice person. This is far from real life.


	13. Chapter 13

Jinwoo and Manager knew Eunwoo was meeting with Yoona and some other Songbirds, because of course they couldn’t keep quiet about that. Minhyuk was going along, ostensibly, as backup, because concerns about an attack on female idols were still circling the industry as well as the general public, and if song-eaters were getting organized, striking where many Songbirds were gathered but off-guard could be disastrous. 

They were meeting at Yoona’s company, which would also reduce the risk of rumors that anything untoward was happening between Eunwoo and Yoona - like dating - but because Yoona’s company was aware she was a Songbird and she was as popular as she was, she could be afforded any privacy she wanted.

So when they met, it was in a practice room, and the only person accompanying Yoona was her personal Songbird, Bomi.

If word about the meeting got out, Yoona’s company would spin it as a mentor-mentee meeting between her and Eunwoo. Given her popularity, it wasn’t a terrible angle to take. But Minhyuk was still nervous.

Though mostly because he would be trapped in a room with three Songbirds, two of whom were apparently very formidable, if they’d been trained by Eunwoo’s mother.

“Eunwoo-ya, I’m so glad you’ve become more open-minded about what it means to be a Songbird.” Yoona was effortlessly gorgeous in satin track pants and a halter top, sitting in the middle of the dance floor on a folding chair she’d been using to practice some choreography. Bomi stood behind her. 

Eunwoo bowed. “Thank you for taking the time to meet with me. I know you’re incredibly busy, what with shooting for your next drama beginning in a few days.”

“You’re even busier, aren’t you? Comeback, concerts, plus all your variety show appearances.” Yoona’s smile was friendly, but her gaze was sharp. She tilted her head, looked Minhyuk up and down in a way that made him want to draw in on himself, if not hide behind Eunwoo. “How has it been, learning song-eater lore and about how Songbirds hunt?”

Minhyuk bowed politely. “My teammates and I are grateful for the help you’ve given us, sunbaenim.”

Yoona laughed. “You boys are all so polite. So, Eunwoo-ya, what was so pressing that you had to discuss it in person?”

“It’s about boy song-eaters,” Eunwoo said.

Yoona raised her eyebrows. “There’s no such thing.”

Bomi remained expressionless.

“When I mentioned the possibility to my mother, she asked if I’d seen one myself, and when I told her I hadn’t, she suggested you might have planted the notion in my head. I came to find out why that is.” Eunwoo kept his tone calm and friendly, but Minhyuk knew the steely look in his eyes.

Yoona glanced at Bomi.

Bomi went and locked the door.

Minhyuk slid closer to Eunwoo instinctively. Eunwoo licked his lips.

So he could whistle, if needed. Minhyuk had never drunk a whistle, but if Yoona or Bomi attacked, he’d try.

Yoona tilted her head, studying Eunwoo with an intensity Minhyuk hadn’t expected from her, the Nation’s It Girl. She was beautiful and charming, talented and hardworking, yes. But this analytical and calculating?

“Is it true?” she asked.

Eunwoo ducked his head slightly, puzzled.

“What they say, about how your mother treated you while she trained you.”

Eunwoo’s shoulders tightened. “I don’t know what they say.”

“Oh, I think you do.” Yoona straightened up as Bomi came to stand beside her again. “I’m just wondering if it is true, if it might be part of the reason you reached out to me at all, despite being a paragon of Cha virtue on the surface.”

Minhyuk had never really thought of  _ Cha Eunwoo _ as a real person. It was Eunwoo’s stage name, and they all called him by it because it was part of him, but it was an empty signifier in the end. He was really Lee Dongmin, had grown up in the Lee household with the Lee family values. But then Minhyuk was, in so many ways, more his mother than his father, wasn’t he?

Eunwoo said, “My mother raised me strictly and trained me well, despite the...inherent disadvantages of my sex.”

Yoona tossed her head. “There are no inherent disadvantages for your sex when it comes to hunting song-eaters. But you didn’t answer my question.”

“I came to you because I respect you and I trust you to be honest with me, as you’ve been open and honest and helpful in the past,” Eunwoo said, which still wasn’t an answer but was apparently a good enough response that Yoona smiled.

She asked, “Do you believe that male song-eaters can exist?”

“There’s no reason they couldn’t. If song-eaters reproduce like humans do, then they can have male offspring. Maybe something in their magic makes it so the boys are all stillborn or don’t possess song-eater attributes, but not all magic holds true. After all, here I am, after a hundred generations of the Cha Clan having firstborn daughters.” 

Sometimes Eunwoo’s calm logic was maddening in the midst of a heated argument, but Minhyuk was glad for it here.

Yoona raised an eyebrow. “So you think if a male song-eater were to exist, he’d be a fluke?”

“Given how the lore has an utter dearth of them, if they do exist, they must be quite rare,” Eunwoo said.

“And if they did exist, what would that matter?”

“It would make me wonder what other aspects of lore are inaccurate,” Eunwoo said. “And, of course, which Songbird practices are...unwise, if based on inaccurate lore.”

Yoona looked pleased, almost smug. She crossed her legs and leaned in, rested her elbow on her knee, chin in hand. “And what would you do, if you learned some of our most sacred traditions and practices are unwise?”

“Discontinue them, obviously.”

“So tell me. Where did you see him? Did you kill him, or capture him?”

“Capture is not an option,” Eunwoo said automatically.

Yoona raised her eyebrows.

“I mean, I’m sure I’m capable of it but - are you saying it’s true? They really exist?”

“Why is capture not an option?” Minhyuk asked.

“We’re supposed to kill song-eaters. Keeping them alive is too risky. And - and they don’t deserve it.” Eunwoo bowed his head apologetically.

Minhyuk put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed.

“Except, of course, that song-eaters are routinely captured and kept and used as weapons - among other things,” Yoona said. 

Minhyuk’s chest tightened. “What?”

Eunwoo said, “How do you know that?”

“Ask your mother.”

A muscle twitched in Eunwoo’s jaw.  _ “How do you know that?” _

“How do you know about male song-eaters?”

“My mother would never -”

“She would and she has and she still does.”

“Prove it.”

“You first.”

Eunwoo reached into his pocket, unlocked his phone, started playing a song. Instrumental. A piano piece he’d recorded ages ago, a cover. 

They’d talked about this beforehand. Minhyuk knew what he was supposed to do. But they’d agreed this was a last resort. The information Yoona had - if it was real - had to be important. It sounded important.

So Minhyuk inhaled and let the soft, trilling piano notes turn creamy-sweet on his tongue.

Bomi and Yoona both twitched for their weapons, then froze.

Minhyuk swallowed down the music, felt it buzz through his limbs. Eunwoo stopped the song.

“One of your own teammates?” Yoona was out of her seat and across the room, circling Minhyuk, eyeing him critically, and he shrank against Eunwoo’s side. “Have you known this entire time?”

Her eyes glittered with something like avarice.

“I only realized a couple of months ago,” Eunwoo said.

Yoona arched an eyebrow. “You didn’t report him to Senior Command? Didn’t kill him yourself?”

“As you so astutely observed, he’s  _ one of my own teammates,” _ Eunwoo said, tone sharp and bordering on disrespectful. “I’ve lived with him since I was eighteen, and he’s never hurt any one of us.”

“Then how did you realize what he was?”

“He was drinking a song off of his phone.” Eunwoo lied so smoothly, and not just because he’d been trained as an actor.

Yoona didn’t question the notion of a song-eater drinking anything but a live human voice. She knew more than most Songbirds, then. 

“Now it’s your turn to tell me. What makes you think Songbirds keep song-eaters and use them as weapons?” Eunwoo caught Minhyuk’s wrist and tugged him half behind him, shielding him subtly.

Yoona resumed her seat, though her gaze never left Minhyuk. He tried to hold himself taller, but his heart was racing and his palms were sweating and every fiber of his being was screaming at him to run. 

To Eunwoo she said, “I’m sure you’ve learned from your teammate that not all song-eaters, indeed the minority of them, kill people to sustain their own immortality. You’ve probably also learned that song-eaters marry and have families and live quiet, ordinary lives, and only use their powers and risk death by Songbird in extremely exigent circumstances, like the severe injury or illness of a loved one.”

Eunwoo nodded tightly. 

“Senior Command has known all of this, well, since the beginning. You see, in the beginning, Songbirds and song-eaters weren’t enemies. They were partners.”

Eunwoo blinked. “Pardon?”

“Why do you think all Songbirds are trained musicians? So they can lure prey? Hardly. It’s because Songbirds used to be protectors for the beautiful, powerful song-eaters who walked the land, bestowing grace and healing on mere mortals. Songbirds would share their voices with song-eaters to aid in their magic. They were trained combatants so as to be able to defend themselves and the song-eaters they walked with.” Yoona’s voice took on a lyrical tone, like a teacher telling a fairy tale to small children.

Minhyuk had never heard any of this. His mother and grandmother had never said anything about this.

“But the Songbirds realized what money could be had, in selling healing to the highest bidder - and in having some people killed in a way that was utterly untraceable. So they invented the legends about murderous song-eaters, wiped out as many as they could, and captured the rest. Starved them, then sent them out to kill. Kept their families and threatened them, because why would a well-fed song-eater return to her captors if not to ensure the safety of her loved ones? If the song-eater was caught in the act, oh well, younger Songbirds wiped them out, and the public felt safe and protected, and no one was any the wiser. Of course, over time some song-eaters escaped, and now they’re in the wild, keeping their heads down, living their quiet lives. Dreading recapture. Some planning revenge, but mostly living well and taking care of their own.”

Eunwoo was pale, body wracked with very fine tremors. “You’re lying.”

“Senior Command has kept the tradition to this day. Why do you think no one ascends to a senior command position till one becomes vacant after a death? Because secrecy requires small numbers. Everyone in Senior Command and their families - they’re all well-off, aren’t they? Not so well-off that it would be suspicious, since none of them are chaebols. But you grew up well, didn’t you? Studied overseas. Had all the music lessons you wanted. Idol training, too, with nary a blink about cost.” Yoona tilted her head, smiling, but the expression wasn’t sweet or pretty.

It was cruel.

Eunwoo shook his head. “No. That’s impossible. My mother -”

“Is a monster like the rest of senior command.”

Minhyuk caught Eunwoo’s arm, steadying him. “Why should we believe you?”

“As I’m sure you told your friend, not all the children of song-eaters possess the powers of song-eaters. Some song-eaters die so their children - their ordinary, innocent children - can escape the dungeon where they’re held hostage. And some of those ordinary, innocent children work hard and get themselves accepted into a clan and become Songbirds. And the Nation’s It Girl.” Yoona framed her face with her hands and smiled, a ghastly parody of her signature sweet smile.

Eunwoo stumbled back. Minhyuk caught him. 

Minhyuk looked right at Yoona. “If you really have a song-eater for a parent, then you know what we really call ourselves.”

“All this time. You’ve been hunting other song-eaters.” Eunwoo stared at her.

“Is that what the ledgers say? Oh my.” Yoona shrugged and placed her hands delicately on her knees. “Why would I kill someone who’s never committed murder?”

Minhyuk said, “You didn’t answer my question. I have no reason to believe anything you say if you don’t know something as basic as that. For all I know, you’re using my friend as a pawn in whatever politics you have going on with his mother.” He started to tow Eunwoo toward the door. He’d break it down if he had to. 

Yoona said, “Song-sharers. My mother called herself a song-sharer.”

And then she whistled.

Eunwoo and Bomi both twitched for their weapons, but it wasn’t a Songbird combat spell. It was a lullaby Minhyuk’s mother had sung to him as a child. The words were nonsense, rhyming, to teach him how to talk. The melody was multiple spells, teaching him the basics of song-sharer magic. Protection. Defense. Minor healing. No song-sharer would ever share that with an outsider. But then Minhyuk had told Eunwoo so much, hadn’t he?

Minhyuk whistled a reply, different spells. Warding. Warmth on a cold night. Cold to soothe a fever. 

Yoona whistled in return, more spells - light in the darkness, fire to cook with.

Bomi and Eunwoo looked confused - and spooked. 

Minhyuk said, “I think she’s telling the truth.”

Eunwoo said, “I’m going to throw up.”

Bomi dove for the waste paper basket in the corner right as Minyuk started dragging Eunwoo over to it. Bomi managed to plunk it down at Eunwoo’s feet right before he collapsed to his knees and started to retch. 

“Hyung!” Minhyuk smoothed his hair out of his eyes, patting his back. 

Bomi grimaced. 

Yoona was totally unfazed. “Did you ever wonder why we have magic powered by music? Why Songbirds are so obsessed with clans and bloodlines?”

Eunwoo couldn’t answer, hunched over the basket and panting. 

“Did your sweet, loyal teammate ever tell you that song-sharers have the same magic as Songbirds, spells powered by a melody?”

Eunwoo shook his head, though whether that was in response to her question or him asking her to stop her relentlessly calm words, Minhyuk couldn’t tell. 

Yoona said, “It’s because we have song-eater blood. Not every child of a song-eater has their powers. But we all inherit the magic.”

“Water,” Eunwoo croaked. 

Bomi held out a bottle of water. Minhyuk twisted off the cap and helped Eunwoo sit up, held the bottle to his lips. 

Yoona tilted her head. “You’re such a sweet little dongsaeng, caring for your hyung like so, your hyung who’s killed dozens of your kind in cold blood.”

Minhyuk said, “He’s my hyung. He’s taken care of me for years. Yes, I just recently found out he’s a Songbird. But he just recently found out I’m a song-sharer. We’re still a team. Still family.”

“What do your teammates think about you helping them hunt one of your own?” Yoona asked. 

Minhyuk avoided her gaze, patting Eunwoo’s back gently. 

“Ah. So they don’t know. How do you think they’ll react when they find out?”

Minhyuk looked up at her. “What were you hoping to accomplish, dumping all that on him?”

“I’m surprised you didn’t.” Yoona looked amused. 

“I didn’t know most of it.”

Yoona blinked. “What?”

“All my life, the only others of my kind I’ve known are my mom and grandma. They always told me to keep my head down and - and to kill myself if someone found me out.”

“And yet here you are, comforting a Songbird.”

“I trust him with my life.”

“So you knew nothing of the truth about Songbirds and song-sharers, the betrayal and the exploitation?”

Minhyuk nodded. 

“What are you going to do now that you know? Just put your head down and keep on lying to everyone around you?” The intensity in Yoona’s gaze was frightening.

“What’s your plan?” Eunwoo asked. His voice sounded raw. “You’ve been gathering other Songbirds to your side. You’re trying to turn me into your double agent within the Cha Clan.”

“You’re as brilliant as can be expected of a Cha.”

Eunwoo cleared his throat. “My name is Lee Dongmin. When we’re not in front of a camera or press or fans, call me Dongmin.”

“My plan is to free the captives and give them justice,” Yoona said. 

Dongmin sat back on his haunches. Bomi offered him a tissue box so he could wipe his face and hands. “Even if you free them, under the law they’re not human. They have no rights. No one will be prosecuted for harming them.”

“Some of the captives are like you and me - song-eater blood and magic but no other abilities. They’re considered human under the law. Indeed, they’re potential Songbirds.” Yoona smiled that terrible parody of her sweet publicity smile. “It’s really cute you think we’ll be doing this through regular law enforcement methods anyway.”

Dongmin coughed. “I should have gone to law school after all. Listen, if you want to make changes that matter, that last, you need legislation. Treat song-eaters - song-sharers as human. Give them human rights and family relationships. Prevent discrimination in jobs and school. Change school curriculum so children learn the truth. Create official law enforcement mechanisms for any who step out of line, same as for regular humans.”

“That takes too much time.” Yoona tossed her head. 

“You’ve played a very long game, but - we aren’t the only country with Songbirds and song-sharers. Senior Command from China or Japan will come take over and restore anything you destroy - after you and all your followers are annihilated.” Dongmin pushed himself to his feet. 

Minhyuk rose with him, wary. 

Dongmin lifted his chin and looked Yoona in the eye. “If you really want to make a difference beyond avenging your mother, it’ll take more time. Planning. But you, with your status, and maybe me with mine, and people like Soohyang and Dohee, we could effect lasting change.”

For the first time, Yoona looked unsettled. Wrong-footed. Then she sighed. “Yah, Lee Dongmin, you’re so much more than a pretty face, aren’t you?”

Dongmin said, “My mother has always told me I’m ugly.”

Yoona burst out laughing. “What? That’s - oh. You’re not joking.” She looked at him with wide eyes. 

“You have your double agent,” Dongmin said. “But until you have a better plan, I’m keeping my head down, and I’m protecting Minhyukie.”

Yoona nodded, and Minhyuk could suddenly see that beneath her pretty makeup and her cute hair and her stylish workout clothes, she was exhausted.

“What did we accomplish in this meeting?” he asked. 

Yoona blinked at him. 

“As far as music is concerned.”

Dongmin said, “Perhaps you agreed to appear in one of our music videos. And Minhyuk agreed to choreograph the title song for your next comeback.”

Yoona raised her eyebrows.

Dongmin said, “He choreographed the title song for our last comeback.”

Yoona said, “All right. What will your next music video be?”

Minhyuk thought quickly. “Just a special digital single. For our fans. For the summer. Hyung and I are writing a song together. The lyrics are sad but the melody is upbeat and sweet, so - it’ll have a bittersweet feeling to it. It’s a ballad, with a story. You could play the girl, perhaps? And we’d have someone else play the boy.”

Yoona nodded. “All right.” She stood up and tossed her head, shook out her limbs. “If only other artistic decisions could be made so quickly. It was a pleasure meeting with you, Eun - Dongmin-ah. And you - what’s your name again?”

“I’m Astro’s Rocky,” he said, bowing. “But my real name is Park Minhyuk.”

“Stay safe, Minhyuk-ssi.”

“Thank you, sunbaenim.”

“If you like, you can call me noona,” she said.

Minhyuk knew he was being afforded a rare honor, being as young and inexperienced as he was, so he bowed and said, “Thank you, noona.” Because he hadn’t missed the look in her eye, mingled fondness and wistfulness. Had she known other boys like him, young song-sharers?

“I’m sorry about the mess.” Dongmin pressed a hand to his stomach, blushing bright red.

“At least you had a reaction that wasn’t anger,” Yoona said. “Thank you for listening to me. And listen to Minhyuk-ssi, when he talks to you about what it’s like, being a song-sharer in this world.”

“Ah, noona, please, feel free to drop formalities with me,” Minhyuk said.

Yoona’s smile for him was genuine, bright.

“We’d better get back to the company and meet the others for practice,” Dongmin said.

It was Bomi who showed them to the door while Yoona called for someone to get rid of the wastebasket. 

Dongmin donned a cap and mask while Minhyuk ordered a cab on his phone.

The driver wasn’t inclined toward conversation, was listening to some news program on his radio.

Minhyuk said, “So...do you want us to call you Dongmin now?”

“Yeah, I think I do.” Dongmin sighed gustily. Then he leaned in to Minhyuk, kept his voice low. “If Myungjun ever finds out what you are -”

“I know. Relationship over. I’ll leave the team if I have to. Sanha’s an underrated dancer, can take my spot on the dance line. You’ll have five members, so Bin-hyung can really be the center. Bin could pick up my rap parts, too, or just give them all to Jinwoo-hyung, except for the parts where we go back and forth. Bin is an underrated rapper, too.”

Dongmin studied him. “You’ve really lived your entire life prepared to just - end it, haven’t you?”

“Better to end it on my own terms than let one of your kind cut out my tongue - and then start searching for other boys like me.” Minhyuk swallowed hard. “Even if he finds out what I am, don’t - don’t tell him about the blood thing. He has one of those weapons, right? And if he can use it, it means - he’d be devastated. It’d tear him apart.”

“Maybe if he learns that, he’ll be more understanding about you.”

Minhyuk shook his head. “Please don’t tell him.”

“He is a grown man, you know. Older and wiser than we usually give him credit for.”

Minhyuk swallowed hard. “I know.” It was one of the reasons he’d fallen in love with Myungjun, for the quiet, gentle moments the fans almost never saw.

“I won’t tell him,” Dongmin said, “but if he finds out on his own, I won’t lie.” He looked away. “I’ve had enough of lying.”

Minhyuk said, “Me too, but I can’t stop.”


	14. Chapter 14

If helping with the research on finding Myungjun’s sister’s killer had been a morally dubious task before, it was even worse now. Minhyuk wasn’t alone, though, because Dongmin was sharing the burden with him. They both knew that the information in Dongmin’s journals - and in all his lore books - was inaccurate, had been kept inaccurate for centuries. 

They’d both agreed, however, that it sounded like Myungjun’s sister had been killed by a rogue song-eater, and it would be worth bringing her to justice.

Perhaps it was out of some kind of misguided guilt, but Minhyuk did his best to take care of Myungjun whenever possible. The team was hurtling toward comeback and all it entailed, and they would be facing weeks of extreme sleep-deprivation while they were constantly in front of cameras and had to present a sweet, energetic, united front.

During research in the evenings, Minhyuk made sure Myungjun had an array of study supplies - notebook, pens - and healthy snacks - apple slices, carrot sticks, broccoli bits in hot sauce - to hand, and then settled in beside him, keeping him warm and generally providing comfort. However guilty and awkward Minhyuk felt, it couldn’t have been nearly as difficult as reliving the death of a loved one over and over again. 

During the day, if they were together, he made sure Myungjun was fed and hydrated. Every chance they had, they had a meal together (Minhyuk cooked if he could), they worked out and practiced together, and they trained together. At the end of the day, if the team agreed on some downtime, Minhyuk cheered for Myungjun during video games, cuddled with him during movies or dramas, or sat behind him and rubbed his neck and shoulders while he worked on learning his lines for the musical.

Late at night, in bed, when it was just the two of them, Minhyuk did his best to show Myungjun how much he loved him, with kisses and touches and all the energy he could put into his body.

One night, after a particularly energetic round of lovemaking, Myungjun half-sprawled across Minhyuk’s chest, listening to his racing heart.

“You know, if we were married and straight, I’d think you were trying to get me pregnant or something.”

Minhyuk spluttered. _“What?”_

Myungjun giggled. “The look on your face. That was the best.”

“Myungjunnie, don’t tease me. I worked very hard just now.” Minhyuk pouted.

Myungjun leaned up and pressed a kiss to his mouth. “Very _hard_ indeed.”

Minhyuk groaned. “I thought we agreed - no dad jokes during sex.”

“Says the king of dad jokes.”

“I have made zero dad jokes while we’re naked together.”

“I would hope your dad wouldn’t make jokes about your sex life.”

Minhyuk huffed. “Myungjunnie -”

“I’m just kidding. You’ve been - enthusiastic lately. I actually really like it.”

“Can I help it if my boyfriend is so hot?” Minhyuk smoothed a hand down Myungjun’s side for emphasis.

Instead of giggling and preening, Myungjun bit his lip. Then he said, “You really think I’m hot?”

Minhyuk blinked. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”

“It’s just - we have Eunwoo and Binnie and Jinwoo and Sanha on the team. Compared to them, I - it would be fine if you love me for my personality. But -”

Minhyuk silenced him with a kiss, long and slow and deep. When they finally had to part for breath, he said, “I love _you,_ Kim Myungjun. Everything about you is beautiful to me. Your mind, your soul, your body, your voice. Everything. Understand?”

Myungjun gazed into Minhyuk’s eyes, and Minhyuk realized he was trembling. He wrapped his arms around Myungjun and held him tightly.

“Myungjunnie, what’s wrong?”

“I don’t know. I just -” Myungjun’s voice came out choked, and he swallowed hard. “I feel like my entire life is a lie.”

“What? No. You’re a good person, a sincere and honest person.” Guilt twisted in Minhyuk’s gut once again, because he was the liar in this relationship, but he pushed it aside. Myungjun needed him.

Myungjun burrowed closer in his embrace. “No, I’m not. You, Binnie, and Sanha - you sacrificed most of your lives, your childhood to become idols, to live this dream. This was never my dream. My entire goal, my whole life, has been to avenge Myungsoon’s death. Because I sound like her, the song-eater who killed her will come for me if she hears my voice, right? If we become popular enough, our voices will be everywhere.” His voice was low, despondent. “It’s like fate. Dongmin is a Songbird. He can help me track down Myungsoon’s killer. The rest of you are even pitching in to help. If I do this, if I succeed, I don’t know if I can go on. Being an idol. But if I leave the team, everything the rest of you have worked for, what will happen?”

Minhyuk closed his eyes and ducked his head, nestling in against Myungjun. “Whatever you decide, I’ll be with you. Whether you stay or you go, I’ll be by your side.”

It was true. Being an idol had never been his dream. It had been his mother’s plan, for him to be safe from Songbirds. He wouldn’t survive long, living with one when three of them knew what he really was, knew the truth about his mother and grandmother too. He couldn’t be an idol for the rest of his life and didn’t want to be. 

Myungjun lifted his head sharply. “What? Minhyukie, no, this is your dream -”

“My dream is being with you always,” he said.

Myungjun closed his eyes and sighed shakily. “I really don’t deserve you.”

“You deserve better than me.” Minhyuk dropped a kiss on his forehead. “Now stop overthinking and let’s sleep. Tomorrow will come too soon.”

His dream was to be beside Myungjun forever, but he knew better than to make it a promise.

* * *

“I had a thought,” Sanha said, while everyone was gathered in the den and studying half-heartedly after a long day of practice.

“Just one?” Dongmin asked. The others had taken to calling him by his real name with aplomb. After all, they’d used it all during their trainee time anyway. 

Sanha rolled his eyes. “You said song-eaters are basically like serial killers. I remember watching that one crime drama with Lee Junki, where he was a profiler. In an episode they talked about a killer’s comfort zone, how you can figure out where a killer might live based on the locations of all their kills. We could figure that out, right?”

“If we had information about more than one incident,” Jinwoo said, refraining from using the word _kill;_ Minhyuk hadn’t been the only one to notice Myungjun’s flinch.

“Where are we on those police records?” Myungjun asked.

“My contact at the police station is still working on it,” Dongmin said, “but my contact is with Seoul Metropolitan since I live and work here now, and the records are out of a different jurisdiction, so it’s taking more time than usual.”

Myungjun nodded.

Minhyuk caught Dongmin’s eye. Dongmin inclined his head ever-so-slightly. So someone really was working on getting those records. Good.

“That’s a really brilliant angle, though,” Jinwoo said.

Sanha preened.

“See if you can’t find out how to calculate a killer’s ‘comfort zone’, so we’ll be prepared when the records arrive,” Jinwoo continued.

Sanha nodded.

“I’ll help,” Bin said.

Sanha smiled. “Thanks, hyung.”

After that, Minhyuk lost track of the group’s research. Evening research time as a team disappeared as comeback loomed closer and closer. They got up early every morning to do their group practice for the performances for the comeback showcase and the B-side track they’d be doing on broadcast shows (which Minhyuk, Bin, and Jinwoo had choreographed together) and then scatter to their individual schedules. They met with management over and over again, hashing and re-hashing the schedule, making sure they were on track for the concerts. Minhyuk and Myungjun were to stay apart during promotions when they weren’t in front of a camera.

“We already have a buddy system in place,” Jinwoo said, “for the song-eater threat, and they’re not paired together for it, so don’t worry.”

Manager looked pleased by this, but upper management still grumbled.

If the fans were excited for the comeback, the anticipation - and the tension - building for Minhyuk and his teammates was off the charts. The album would drop at six in the evening on D-day. The comeback showcase started at eight. They were up late every night, fine-tuning the final details on their performances _(look this way on that motion, make sure to follow your hands on that motion, then back to the camera for this line; adjust the angle of your arms to match the rest of us a little more)._ Myungjun sometimes stayed at the practice room later than everyone else, working on songs for the musical.

Support from the fans, local and international, had been overwhelmingly supportive when the company announced that he’d earned one of the lead roles in the musical, and he was determined not to let them down.

Underneath it all, Minhyuk and Dongmin faced the double pressure of writing a song good enough to be released and working with Yoona and her faction of Songbirds.

Late one night, at the studio Minhyuk shared with Jinwoo for songwriting, he and Dongmin were crowded around the computer, working on a very rough version of the track to offer to management.

“Do you ever wonder if Yoona is tricking us? If it’s all a lie?” Minhyuk asked.

Dongmin sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Every day when I wake up I hope it’s a lie.” He opened one eye and peered at Minhyuk. “What about you? Do you think she and I are lying to you?”

“You’re a good actor, hyung, but not that good. This is bothering you as much as it bothers me. The notion that your mother is capable of what Yoona says she is - no one wants to believe that.” Minhyuk reached for his water bottle and took a long drink.

“How do you even sleep at night?” Dongmin asked.

“I don’t. These days I don’t sleep well till Myungjun comes home, and even then - then I just lie awake and look at him and think of how hurt he’ll be when he finds out what a liar I am. But I can’t stop. _We_ can’t stop.”

Dongmin shook his head. “At least you’ve never killed anyone in cold blood.”

Minhyuk reached out, curled his hand around Dongmin’s wrist. “Hyung. You didn’t know.”

“I know now, and so do you. How can you even stand to be around me? You should hate me. You should want me dead. I -”

Oh no. Dongmin was going to start crying.

Minhyuk pulled him into a tight embrace. “Hey. I don’t hate you. You’re my hyung. I know _you._ I know you’d never have done that if you knew the truth. The fact that you’re willing to work with Yoona, to work against your own mother -”

“Don’t remind me. Please.” Dongmin sniffled.

“If nothing else, _I_ know you’re a good person,” Minhyuk said. “It’ll have to be enough.”

Dongmin nodded and sniffled again.

The sharp shrill of his cellphone ringing made them spring apart.

A moment later, Minhyuk’s phone rang. They both scrambled to answer.

“Hello?” Minhyuk asked. It was Myungjun. Was he done with musical rehearsals already?

“Minhyukie, where are you? Are you safe? Is Dongmin with you? Please say he’s with you.” Myungjun sounded panicked.

Beside him, Dongmin said, “Jinwoo-hyung, slow down, Minhyuk is with me, we’re at the studio working on our song, like we said before we left the dorm. What’s wrong?”

“Dongmin is with me,” Minhyuk said slowly, alarmed. “What’s going on?”

“Stay where you are. The company will send a van for you.”

“Myungjunnie,” Minhyuk said, “tell me what’s going on.”

“There was another attack. It was on some girls, but - one of them is dead.”

Minhyuk’s blood ran cold. He looked at Dongmin.

Dongmin’s expression was grim. “All right. We’ll stay here and wait for the company van.” 

“I’m with Dongmin. I’m the safest of all of us. You stay safe, all right?”

“I will. I love you,” Myungjun said in a small voice. The call ended. 

Minhyuk’s hands were shaking when he set his phone down. He looked at Dongmin, but he had his phone out on speaker. He was calling Yoona. 

She picked up immediately. “Dongmin-ah. You heard.” 

“Who was it? How bad was it?”

“It was Noh Romi.” Yoona sounded grim. 

Minhyuk didn’t recognize the name. 

“How are Soohyang and Dohee?” Dongmin asked.

Noh Romi must have been one of their teammates.

“Both of them were injured trying to save her. It’s - bad. Commander Cha is deploying everyone but active idols to get control of this.”

“So that one got away as well?” A muscle twitched in Dongmin’s jaw.

“Unfortunately.”

“It’s not a coincidence, is it?”

Minhyuk frowned. What would make Dongmin think that?

“Commander Cha knows most of my support is among the active idols. Taking out another Songbird directly is unconscionable, but targeting their teammates is an effective strategy. It’s a distraction. It crushes morale.” Yoona’s tone was that same relentless calm Minhyuk remembered from that meeting a few weeks ago. “Injured Songbirds are collateral damage.”

Dongmin looked pale and about ready to throw up, but he swallowed hard. “What’s the plan?”

“Keep an eye on your teammates. Keep your heads down. I’ll send word when I have more information.”

“Thank you, noona.”

“I’m sorry, Dongmin-ah.”

“No need to apologize. This isn’t your fault.”

Minhyuk’s phone buzzed with an incoming text. The company van had arrived. Someone would meet them at the door of the studio and escort them to the van. They were to remain completely silent till they were in the van and moving in traffic. The precautions seemed like overkill, but Minhyuk wasn’t about to flout them. He held his phone up for Dongmin to see. Dongmin nodded, bade farewell to Yoona, and they scrambled to pack up their gear.

Just as Dongmin finished zipping up his backpack, there was a knock at the door. Dongmin and Minhyuk exchanged looks, and Dongmin wet his lips before he inched the door open. Whoever was on the other side of the door must have been someone Dongmin recognized, because he nodded to Minhyuk and stepped into the hallway.

Manager. He’d come for them.

“Everyone else should be back at the dorms by the time we get there,” he said. “Cover up.”

Putting on caps and masks wouldn’t keep them safe from song-eaters in a fight, but in the rare chance that a song-eater was after them, she might not be able to recognize them immediately.

A familiar black company van idled at the sidewalk in front of the little building that housed a bunch of small studios for rent. Jinwoo wasn’t the only idol who rented a space in that building, not by a long shot, so passersby who were regulars in the neighborhood were used to seeing company vans.

Dongmin ushered Minhyuk into the van first; the company knew he was a Songbird and so he’d be expected to act protective of Minhyuk even though Minhyuk was by far the stronger and faster of the two of them.

Manager leaped into the front seat, and as soon as the doors were closed, the driver pulled into traffic.

Once they were rolling down the crowded city streets toward the dorm, Manager said, 

“Everything is going into lockdown mode. Panic has spread industry-wide. So many Songbirds have been pulled from their individual protection duties to chase the attackers, so security has been reduced, especially for boy groups.”

“If the last attack was on a girl group, wouldn’t the next target logically be a boy group? Or maybe a solo artist,” Dongmin said.

He and Minhyuk exchanged looks. They both knew that was a lie. A female song-eater had been dispatched to make a political hit, and if she was caught and killed, no one would realize the true motive for the attack. Had the attack against the boy groups been politically-motivated as well? What about the attack on Myungjun’s sister? Minhyuk’s mind spun.

“The no-audience policy for broadcast shows will continue,” Manager said. “All concerts going forward will be virtual.”

“What?” Minhyuk asked.

“There’s been an agreement industry-wide. Anyone who bought a ticket for a live concert will be reimbursed the full price or reimbursed the difference between the live ticket price and the virtual ticket price and also given priority to purchase a virtual ticket. The company is already making arrangements. No backup dancers. The fewer people in contact with any of you, the better.” Manager’s words were rushed. 

“What about Myungjun-hyung’s musical?” Minhyuk asked. “Will it still go forward?”

“The company will allow him to continue participating as long as the theatre company makes appropriate safety arrangements. Since he’s not the only idol in the cast, I’m sure they’ll make arrangements.” Manager seemed distracted.

Before Dongmin or Minhyuk could ask more questions, Manager’s phone rang, and he turned away to answer it. The rest of the ride was tense, quiet. Dongmin tapped at his phone, probably checking in with some of his other friends in the industry. Minhyuk checked in with his friends as well. He preferred calling, as a rule, but tonight he sent text messages, reluctant to disturb the uneasy quiet that had settled over the van.

His friends confirmed they were all right, that their companies had put similar restrictions on them, and everyone was nervous, especially the girl groups. Minhyuk had to take a deep breath before he went to look at the news articles on the incident. A bunch of teams had canceled their schedules for the next day to show solidarity with Noh Romi’s team and mourn her loss, as well as to pray for Soohyang and Dohee and other teammates to recover well. Minhyuk knew better than to look at the comments on the articles, because he’d see nothing but vitriol about his kind, so he set his phone aside.

Back at the dorm, Myungjun pounced on him as before he’d even taken off his shoes. Dongmin shut the door hurriedly.

“Minhyukie -”

“I’m fine,” Minhyuk said, trying to keep his tone calm and soothing, but Myungjun’s eyes were wide and he was patting Minhyuk down, checking him for injuries.

“We came straight from the studio with Manager,” Dongmin said. “We’re fine. I promise.”

Minhyuk gathered Myungjun into his arms. “Are you all right?”

Myungjun nodded but burrowed into his embrace.

The rest of the team was huddled on the couch together, looking anxious. Minhyuk guided Myungjun over to the love seat, and they curled up together.

“How’s your song coming?” Jinwoo asked.

“Pretty well,” Dongmin said. “We were about ready to record a guide track, but then you called.”

“What do we do now?” Sanha asked.

“Maybe we should do some more research?” Bin looked at Jinwoo.

He shook his head. “We should sleep. All of us. Comeback is in eight days. We’ll barely be able to sleep for two weeks straight, so we should get as much as we can now.”

“I don’t think that’s how it really works,” Dongmin said, “but you’re right. Let’s sleep.”

Sanha said, “Let’s all sleep together in the den.”

Jinwoo raised his eyebrows at Myungjun and Minhyuk, but Myungjun said,

“Who do you want with you?”

Sanha considered. “You and Dongmin-hyung.”

Bin said to Minhyuk, “Jinwoo-hyung should be between us. Since he’s so small.”

Jinwoo spluttered. “Yah! You should sleep in the middle. Since you’re the center.”

“How about this?” Dongmin said. “Me at one end. Sanha next to me, then Myungjun. Bin next to him, then Jinwoo, and Minhyuk on the other end.”

Sanha and Jinwoo nodded, and like that, everyone scattered to collect bedding from all the bedrooms and build a nest in the middle of the den. They took turns washing up and winding down for the night, and then they all piled into the nest of blankets.

Dongmin was the one who turned off the light and was left with the treacherous task of crossing the den in the dark, but then everyone was tucked in.

“Are you annoyed?” Bin asked in a low voice.

“Me?” Jinwoo whispered back.

“Minhyuk. That he can’t sleep beside Myungjun.”

Minhyuk sighed. “I slept in my own bed for months and was just fine, thanks. Yes, you happened to walk in on us one time, but we do actually have some self-restraint.”

“A lot,” Myungjun said. “Have you _seen_ how hot he is? His abs are -”

“Yah,” Dongmin protested.

Myungjun giggled. “Sorry not sorry.”

“What’s it like?” Sanha asked.

“Minhyuk’s abs?” Dongmin sounded incredulous.

“No. Being in love. I mean, we sing about it all the time,” Sanha said.

“You’ve never asked me about it,” Jinwoo said, shifting beside Minhyuk. “I’ve been with Nayoung for over a year now, and we liked each other for months before we got together.”

“Do we really have to talk about feelings?” Minhyuk asked.

“Says the man who writes songs about his feelings,” Bin said.

“Myungjunie is my first love, so obviously I don’t actually know anything about breakups. When the Wind Blows was just a song. I was imagining.” Minhyuk grumbled under his breath and jammed closer to Jinwoo for comfort.

Dongmin began to sing the chorus of Innocent Love, from their debut album.

“That song is about breaking up with your first love. Don’t jinx us,” Myungjun protested.

“If Jinwoo-hyung interrupted your first real date, what did you two even do before? Besides the obvious,” Bin asked.

“Talk,” Minhyuk said. “We’d cuddle during movie time.”

“Movie time with the rest of us?” Jinwoo asked.

“Yeah,” Myungjun said. “None of you noticed.”

“Mostly we’d make out, if we had a moment alone,” Minhyuk admitted, and Myungjun giggled again.

Dongmin said, “I’m glad you’re happy together.”

“We should celebrate sometime,” Bin added. “We never got to throw you a two-two party.”

“When’s your one hundredth day?” Sanha perked up. “We could -”

“No,” Myungjun said.

“But we want to be supportive of your relationship.” Sanha was pouting.

“I can take care of our one hundredth day myself, thank you. I have dated before.” Myungjun’s tone was pointed.

Minhyuk perked up. “Does that mean you have something planned?” He’d already bought gifts, a pair of silver rings that looked enough like their fandom rings that no one would pay much attention to them.

“I can neither confirm nor deny,” Myungjun said archly.

“So gay couples do all the fancy anniversaries too?” Jinwoo asked.

“They’re a real couple,” Bin said.

“Well, I mean, men are different,” Jinwoo said. He nudged Minhyuk. “Unless you’re into stuffed animals and flowers and chocolate?”

“Everyone likes chocolate,” Minhyuk said. “And why wouldn’t I like flowers and stuffed animals? I like them when fans give them to me. It’s even more meaningful when my boyfriend gives them to me.”

“Do you tie each other’s shoelaces and things? Blow on each other’s food if it’s too hot?” Dongmin asked. “Like in dramas.”

Minhyuk nudged Jinwoo. “Do you tie Nayoung’s shoelaces and blow on her food?”

“...I have tied her shoelaces before. But it was because she had her arms full. She prefers to do that stuff herself. She’s very independent,” Jinwoo said.

“Minhyukie is younger than me, so I take care of him, same way I take care of the rest of you,” Myungjun said virtuously.

“You’re not dating the rest of us,” Bin pointed out.

“I don’t make out with the rest of you either, and while I do love all of you, annoying as you are, I’m not _in_ love with you. Just Minhyuk,” Myungjun said.

Minhyuk smiled to himself.

Sanha made a gagging sound, and then there was a slap and a yelp.

“I regret starting this line of conversation,” Sanha said.

“Bin started it,” Dongmin said.

“Yah!” Bin protested.

“We do appreciate how supportive you’ve been,” Minhyuk said. “But comeback is almost here, and what will matter most is our relationship as a team.”

Jinwoo reached out and smoothed a hand over his hair gently. “Minhyuk’s right. And now we should sleep. For real. I’ll count sheep.”

Minhyuk closed his eyes and let Jinwoo’s warmth and deep voice carry him into dreams.

He couldn’t remember his dreams, but he was pretty sure for once they didn’t turn into nightmares.


	15. Chapter 15

When the album dropped, all of them were in their chairs at the shop, getting made up for their comeback showcase. It would be only the six of them, their staff, an MC, and the camera and broadcast crew. The showcase was being broadcast live over the internet so fans could tune in for free. After a couple of broadcast show performances without an audience, it wouldn’t be so strange, and by now they were all old hats at keeping an eye out for the red light that told them which camera to look into, but being unable to share energy with the fans was kind of disappointing. However, maintaining safety for themselves and their fans was paramount. 

“Check the charts!” Sanha said, digging his phone out of his pocket. 

“Not just the Korean charts,” Dongmin said. “We have a lot of international fans right now, so we’ll be number one on foreign charts probably before we make it to number one here.”

“Hold still, please,” the stylist said to Myungjun, who was squirming in his seat and patting himself down in search of his phone.

“If you check SNS, the fans post pictures of the charts for us to see,” Jinwoo said.

“Things are looking very good,” Manager said, swiping rapidly at his own phone. “This is good. The company will be pleased, given -” He glanced at Myungjun, then Minhyuk, who was on the far end of the row from Myungjun. “Given everything. Work hard.”

“We will, Manager,” Jinwoo assured him.

Bin said, “Our title track is already headed up the charts. Hyung, the song you wrote has entered the charts. Our fans are working hard.”

Minhyuk felt energy buzz under his skin. They’d all been up late the night before with final rehearsals, and they’d been up early for some final touches. “How is the music video looking on YouTube?”

“So many hits already.” Myungjun bounced happily in his seat, then cowered and stilled when the stylist glared at him.

“How are you feeling?” Minhyuk looked over at Bin. He’d been absent for the last round of promotions. It had been over a year since he’d promoted with the rest of the team.

“Nervous,” he admitted, seeming startled by the realization.

“You’re going to do amazing,” Minhyuk promised him.

Bin offered his hand.

Minhyuk squeezed it briefly.

“Ancestors forever,” Bin said.

Minhyuk grinned. “Ancestors forever.”

“Rocky-ssi,” the stylist said. “You’re finished.”

“Thank you, noona.” Minhyuk turned and looked at himself in the mirror. The transformation was complete. He resisted the urge to reach up and touch his hair, which looked fluffy and soft but was definitely neither of those things. He eased out of the chair, bowed to her, and then headed back to the waiting room to try to relax till it was time to depart to the studio for the showcase broadcast.

“Minhyuk-ah.”

He spun. “Noona, you startled me.” He bowed to Yoona, who was elegant in a suit and silk blouse. She looked like she was about to take over a company.

Her new drama was corporate intrigue, wasn’t it?

“I listened to the guide version of the song you and Dongmin-ah wrote,” she said. “I like it. It really does capture a bittersweet nostalgia, just as you said it would. Have you put any thought into who my leading man should be for the music video?”

“We haven’t yet,” Minhyuk admitted, slightly nervous to be speaking to her alone even though fans would outright dismiss any rumor about a romance between him and someone like Yoona, because he wasn’t like Dongmin (and he was really, really okay with that). “Do you have someone in mind?”

“I know your fans would become quite jealous if I chose any one of you, but...perhaps I will choose a leading man of my own.” Yoona smiled. 

“I’m sure anyone noona chooses will be perfect for the role,” Minhyuk said. 

“Yoona-sunbaenim,” Jinwoo said, his hand coming down on Minhyuk’s shoulder. Even though he knew she was a Songbird, he was still wary of her being alone with any of his teammates, and Minhyuk didn’t mind the silent support, because even if Yoona knew he was a song-sharer and wasn’t hostile about it, she was still everything he’d been warned to be afraid of. She was glittering with silver jewelry.

“Ah, noona, this is Park Jinwoo, Jinjin-hyung, our leader,” Minhyuk said.

Jinwoo inclined his head respectfully, and they exchanged polite greetings.

“I was just talking to Minhyuk-ah about the music video for the song he’s writing with Dongmin-ah,” Yoona said.

The rest of the team arrived, and Dongmin took over, making introductions.

Even though an official statement about the collaboration between Yoona and Minhyuk’s team hadn’t been announced, rumors were circulating around the industry, and the fans were building hype with their curiosity.

“Can I get a picture with you? For my Instagram,” Yoona said. “I’ll make sure to cheer for your comeback.”

There was no way they could turn down the level of publicity an SNS endorsement by Yoona would bring, so they crowded around her obligingly, and she took a selca.

“What’s your fandom color?”

“Purple,” Sanha said helpfully.

“All right.” Yoona tapped at her phone. “‘Look who I met at the shop. Please give my friends lots of love on their comeback! Astro Fighting!’ And a purple heart. Are your fans using a particular emoji for your comeback?”

“Ah...our title song’s English name is Knock, and the album is called Gateway, so I think they’ve been using a door,” Bin said.

“All right. A door emoji, and a little yellow star emoji for good measure. What’s your official Instagram account name?” 

Myungjun told her.

Yoona finished making her post, then smiled and straightened up. “Break a leg, boys.” She fluttered her fingers and then strode away.

“She can just post to her SNS whenever she wants?” Sanha watched her go, awed.

“She’s Yoona. She can do whatever she wants,” Bin said faintly.

Manager appeared. “Are you ready? Let’s go.”

In the van ride over to the broadcast studio, Minhyuk checked in with his mother.

_Broadcast starts at eight. We’re headed over there now._

Her response was immediate. _How is security?_

_At the shop, minimal. At the station, probably minimal throughout the building but increased for the sound stage we’ll be on._

_We’ll be watching and leaving lots of hearts. Love you. Fighting!_

_Love you all, too. Especially Grandma._

Manager was reviewing the broadcast protocols one more time, but Minhyuk only listened with half an ear, since it was all old hat for him: don’t talk over each other too much, focus, be polite, stick to time constraints as much as possible. Once Manager was finished talking, Dongmin cleared his throat.

“Just in case. Everyone take at least one of these.” He opened his hand and held out silver jewelry. Simple chains for bracelets. Rings.

“For good luck?” Sanha asked, picking up one of the bracelets. Myungjun moved to help him put it on.

Jinwoo took a little silver necklace with a rectangular charm. “They’re nice.”

“They’re my weapons,” Dongmin said. “In case of an emergency. So I have backups.”

Minhyuk, who’d reached for a ring, paused. Dongmin’s weapons burned him. He raised his eyebrows.

Dongmin nodded at him. With his heartbeat climbing rapidly, Minhyuk picked up one of the rings.

It didn’t burn him.

He slipped it on.

Were these real weapons at all? No way would Dongmin lie to the rest of them.

Except why wouldn’t he? Since he’d done it for years anyway.

“They seem ordinary,” Bin said.

“They’re special,” Dongmin said. “The magic in them comes alive only if I activate them. Other weapons can be activated by any Songbird, which can be an advantage - or a disadvantage. They’re not very secure.”

“Ah. Like my necklace?” Myungjun put a hand to it. “You could use mine but I couldn’t use yours?”

Dongmin nodded.

Minhyuk relaxed slightly. So he wouldn’t be burned unless Dongmin called on the magic in the weapon. Hopefully Dongmin wouldn’t have need to call on it.

Manager said, “I’m sorry you need those.”

Dongmin swallowed hard. “So am I.”

“We’re safer with them, so thank you.” Myungjun smiled, and Minhyuk swallowed hard.

Manager was about to say something else when his phone buzzed. He looked down at it, and his eyes went wide. He thrust his phone at Jinwoo.

“What is this?”

It was a screenshot of Yoona’s Instagram post.

“We ran into her at the shop earlier,” Jinwoo said slowly. “She read us the caption before she posted it. It seemed fine. It was Yoona-sunbaenim. We were there as a team. She was very generous about tagging our official account and using the same emojis the fans have been using.”

Manager inhaled deeply, eyes closed for a moment. Then he opened his eyes and exhaled slowly, with the air of someone whose patience was being tried. “None of you thought to check the picture before she posted it?”

“We’d just had our makeup and hair done. None of us were touching her,” Bin said.

Manager shoved his phone into Jinwoo’s hands, but Sanha had already found the post on Instagram on his own phone.

He started to giggle and tried to smother it and snorted instead.

“What?” Myungjun craned his neck.

“It looks like you’re trying to eat Minhyuk-hyung’s head,” Sanha said.

Myungjun leaned in to peer over Sanha’s shoulder. He and Jinwoo said at the same time, “Oh no.”

“Oh no what?” Bin asked, trying to look at Manager’s phone in Jinwoo’s hand.

Dongmin had his own phone unlocked. His face was pale. Minhyuk peered over his shoulder at the post. It was the six of them with Yoona in the middle, she clearly being the person holding the phone, and - oh.

All of them were smiling at the camera. Myungjun, Jinwoo, and Sanha were flashing peace signs. Bin was smiling. Minhyuk’s head was partially covering Myungjun’s face and it did look like Myungjun was trying to bite the top of his head, with how wide his smile was. Dongmin had one hand curled at his cheek, in half a heart symbol.

And Yoona had her opposite hand curled at her cheek, the other half of a heart symbol. Like she and Dongmin were making a heart together, like couples did when they were dating.

“Manager, I’m so sorry. We should have asked to check the picture,” Dongmin said.

Jinwoo handed the phone back. “What’s done is done. We all know neither Dongmin nor Yoona-sunbaenim meant anything by it.” 

“Half the time Dongmin makes only half a heart with his face anyway when it’s just him,” Bin protested.

“The rumors are already flying,” Sanha said grimly, flicking his finger at his screen as he scrolled down through the comments.

Minhyuk said, “What do we need to do?”

“Sit tight. Don’t mention her name at all. PR is already working on it. There’s no question that Yoona promoting you like this will bring you more attention, though not necessarily the good kind.” Manager sighed and rubbed his temples like he had a headache.

“But there are already rumors about us collaborating with noona, right?” Minhyuk said. “The company could just confirm those, and that would solve things, wouldn’t it? Or at least be a reasonable explanation for why noona seems close with us.”

Manager pinned Minhyuk with a narrow look. “You call her noona?”

Minhyuk’s shoulders tightened. “She said I could. After we met.”

“Don’t ever call her that where anyone else can hear. I beg of you.” Manager closed his eyes and massaged his temples more firmly.

“Yes, Manager,” Minhyuk said in a small voice.

Manager took another deep breath and opened his eyes. “Jinwoo-ya, compose a message thanking Yoona-sunbaenim for her kindness and support. Wish her luck on her current project. All of you avoid mentioning her as much as possible if someone asks about her - we’ll do our best to make sure no one asks - and always, always refer to her as sunbaenim, understood?”

They all nodded.

“Now.” Manager pocketed his phone. “Wipe this from your minds. You have work to do.”

At the broadcast station, they headed to the green room. Back as a trainee, Minhyuk had never really appreciated just how little privacy he’d have as an idol, probably because SNS wasn’t so popular with the idols he’d looked up to when he was young and Vlive hadn’t even existed. At least once a day, someone on the team posted something to SNS, just to stay in contact with fans. During any kind of schedule, someone on the staff - usually Manager - was taking pictures of what went on behind the scenes to post on SNS later. So even while they were lingering in the green room, waiting till the sound stage was ready, they were smiling and posing for pictures. 

And then it was time for the broadcast to begin.

Because there was no audience at the soundstage, it was up to Minhyuk and his teammates to cheer in their place. With Myungjun on the team, they sounded like fifty people instead of six, and the MC looked startled, but she laughed. She’d worked with them before and was a genuine fan of the team and their music, and Minhyuk was pretty sure everything would be all right.

So long as he ignored the black-clad women who lingered on the perimeter of the soundstage, gazes alert, who nodded respectfully at Dongmin as he passed.

And then they were in front of the cameras, and it was time to perform.

“Rocky-ssi,” the MC said, “how does it feel to be promoting again?”

Minhyuk blinked under the bright lights. “It didn’t feel real, but I’m here and I can see us on the big monitor there, it’s real now, and I’m excited and glad to be back with my team and the fans.” He grinned and waved at the camera with the red light blinking.

This was it. Comeback was happening.

Being an idol wasn’t just about being a dancer, rapper, and singer. It was about being a performer. Minhyuk had to be profound and intelligent about the music they performed, but he also had to be witty and funny during games. Because he lived with his teammates, they ran on similar wavelengths, and so riffing off of them was easier than with strangers. He and Bin could dance together on short notice. Bin and Dongmin could play off each other’s jokes. Sanha could needle everyone but make them laugh. Constantly having to be on alert, to pay attention, was draining. 

But it was also kind of zen. Minhyuk could enter his flow zone, like he did when he was dancing or performing or doing martial arts. And he loved it. This was what he’d trained for. This was what he lived for.

Right?

* * *

Everything was a blur after that. It was lights, camera, action. Smiles. Singing. Joking. Posing for pictures. Back to the company for drinks - Minhyuk managed to get away with a cider, because he didn’t like alcohol as it was and the last thing he needed was to be hungover - and then a brief rest before he was out of bed and at the company to rehearse for their official comeback stage, which included a different B-side track than the one they’d performed at the showcase.

Backstage at the broadcast station, Manager filmed them goofing off and let them film each other sleeping and getting made up and eating. Minhyuk was careful not to hover around Myungjun too much, though one time when he woke to Bin hovering over him taking selcas, Myungjun had fallen asleep beside him. He grumbled at Bin, then rolled over and went back to sleep, because sleep was precious. When he woke again, Sanha had insinuated himself between them and was snoring softly.

Filming at a music broadcast show - especially for comeback promotions - wasn’t just about name bib rehearsals and dry rehearsals and actual pre-recorded performances. It was filming interviews backstage for the station, filming promo spots for the show, playing variety games for the show (possibly with other idols), and of course the endless photos and behind-the-scenes footage shot by staff. Privacy was a rare and precious commodity, because even when the cameras were pointed elsewhere, there was staff and other teams and artists to contend with. 

Minhyuk wouldn’t have had it any other way. Except for the way Dongmin distributed his silver jewelry before each performance, and the persistent itch between his shoulder blades that he was being watched. By staff, to make sure he kept his distance from Myungjun. From other teams, who hadn’t previously seen Minhyuk’s team as competition despite their recent rise on the charts.

And from the Songbirds in black.

Minhyuk felt like he never went home, shuttling back and forth between music broadcast stations and other stations for variety shows. They slept in the van. They slept on the floors of waiting rooms. Sometimes they didn’t leave the station building for an entire day, shuffling back and forth to different floors to do an interview here and an entire variety show there. Half the time Minhyuk barely noticed when one of the others ducked away for an individual schedule. Dongmin was still filming for his variety show, which was usually out on location. Myungjun always carried around a binder with the script for the musical, studied his lines diligently, and he would disappear for rehearsals and promos for the musical as well. 

There was a certain comfort in Bin always being with them, though. Even though he and Sanha still had their regular MC gig, neither of them missed out on variety show appearances. 

“Did you miss it?” Minhyuk asked, when they finally had time to breathe between shows, sitting around in yet another green room, sharing food, mercifully without the blinking red eye of a camera on them.

Bin was sprawled across one of the sofas, a cup of instant ramyeun balanced dangerously on his belly. “I did. So much.”

“We’re glad you’re here,” Minhyuk said. “It wasn’t the same without you. I’m glad you had the time to get better, but -”

“I know.” Bin slurped up some noodles, expression thoughtful. “But this time isn’t the same, is it? We can’t see the fans, and they can’t see us, not really. I know they’re supporting us and working hard, but…”

“But,” Minhyuk agreed.

“Their safety comes first. We’re not the only ones who’d be in danger, because they sing along with us,” Bin said. He sighed and shook his head. “When we were trainees, they warned us to be cautious, but now we’re afraid. Everyone is afraid. I don’t like being afraid. Do you think Dongmin is less afraid?”

Minhyuk shook his head. “No. Because if a song-eater does show up, we’re expected to run and hide. He’s expected to fight.”

“Military service will probably be a breeze for him. Songbirds are like special forces, aren’t they?”

Minhyuk wondered how they could be, because girls in girl groups didn’t look as strong as, say, Bomi and other professional Songbirds. But looks, he knew well, could be very deceiving. If they had song-sharer blood in them, were they supernaturally strong as well? Just how strong was Dongmin?

“I think so,” he said finally.

Bin said, “I brought some of Dongmin’s journals along for us to study. If we have the brainpower for it. I know Myungjun-hyung is super busy right now, especially with him auditioning for that trot show too, and I want to do everything I can to help.”

Minhyuk swallowed hard and nodded, couldn’t bring himself to say, _Me too._ He did reach for Bin’s backpack and draw out one of Dongmin’s journals, though. How did it make Dongmin feel, to know that he’d dedicated his entire life to a miserable lie, that he’d so carefully preserved and collected all this misinformation? The little leather volume in his hands was expensive, the handwriting inside flawless, the notes neat and concise and so well-organized.

He had just settled in to read - and he was trying to read between the lines, see the logic behind the madness of capturing and enslaving one’s own relatives - when someone plopped down beside him. Immediately he recognized Myungjun’s scent and warmth.

“I’m so tired. High heels hurt. How do women wear them at work all day? I hate them.”

“But you probably look fabulous in them,” Bin said.

“How was play rehearsal?” Minhyuk asked.

Myungjun pouted. “My feet hurt. I sound pretty good, though. The others are kind to me, help me, offer me pointers.”

“And you feel safe?” Bin asked.

Myungjun nodded and then rested his head on Minhyuk’s shoulder. “Yeah. They have Songbirds at every entrance and exit.” He pouted at Minhyuk again. “My feet and calves really, really hurt.”

Minhyuk wanted to kiss him. Instead he set aside Dongmin’s journal. “I’ll give you a foot rub.”

Myungjun beamed and spun around with impressive speed for someone who was so sore.

Bin finished off his ramyeun and threw the cup away, then slid off the couch and sat on the sleeping mat on the floor beside Minhyuk. “I’ll help. Even though the scent of your feet offends my very precious nose.”

“Some days it’s good to be the eldest,” Myungjun said. 

Minhyuk handed him a pillow, and he settled back on it and closed his eyes.

Bin inquired about the rest of the cast while he worked on Myungjun’s calf, and Myungjun answered drowsily.

“Have you practiced your kiss yet?” Bin asked.

“Kiss?” Minhyuk demanded.

“Didn’t you read the play synopsis? Jamie kisses that one student - Dean? To shut him up during an argument.” Bin smirked.

Myungjun said, “No, we’re not there yet. Still working on the opening numbers.”

“A stage kiss isn’t a real kiss,” Minhyuk said defensively. “It - there’s a technique. So it looks real but it’s not. I remember hearing about it when I was in Billy Elliot.”

Bin smirked. “Ooooh, he’s jealous.”

“I am not.” But Minhyuk knew he was pouting. He tried to smooth his face into a neutral expression.

“Don’t worry,” Myungjun said. “He’s straight. And not my type. My type is slender but with a rock-hard body and big -”

“I’m sorry I brought it up,” Bin broke in, and Myungjun giggled.

Manager poked his head into the green room. “Minhyuk-ah! What are you -”

“Bin and Minhyuk are being good dongsaengs and helping me recover after a strenuous play rehearsal, so I can be fresh for the stage here,” Myungjun said virtuously.

Manager poked his head in further and saw Bin, deflated. “Oh. Well, I’m glad you made it here on time. Rehearsals are going well?”

“Very.”

“Excellent. Keep up the good work.” And Manager ducked away again.

Minhyuk mouthed _Thank you_ at Bin, who shrugged and smiled.

Minhyuk didn’t miss the wistful glance Bin cast at Dongmin, who was curled up in one of the armchairs and sleeping.

Sanha plopped down near them and fired up his phone. Since he tended to be the team’s tech and SNS guru - fans called Minhyuk “uncle” because he was slow to learn and embrace all the bells and whistles of SNS, unlike Sanha, who enjoyed editing and posting videos - he had taken it upon himself to keep the team updated on what fans were saying on SNS. Jinwoo was the type to check the fan cafe and cry over the emotional letters fans sent. Sanha liked to report which hashtags were trending and read out some of the more interesting comments people left on the team’s official SNS posts.

“They think we’re doing When You Call My Name again and they want to see Minhyuk-hyung do something really cute with his hair. Maybe the Monsters Inc pigtails again,” Sanha said.

Minhyuk winced. “No. Never again.”

“Not even if the fans sign an official petition?” Sanha looked down at him, mischief in his eyes.

“I’m with Minhyuk,” Bin said. He’d had the little pigtails too, and it had been hard to take themselves seriously, even if they knew the fans would think it was cute. They hadn’t even looked that cute right at debut. “No more pigtails.”

Myungjun affected a very kissable pout. “But you looked so adorable.”

“Next time I’ll get hearts in my hair like Bin-hyung had. Or - or cat ears. Only we’ll call them wolf ears.” Minhyuk spoke loudly, hoping the stylists would hear, but when they got Ideas, Jinwoo and Sanha ended up with bows in their hair.

A PD came and summoned Bin and Sanha, who were pulling double duty on today’s show as MCs in addition to performing with the team. 

Myungjun threw his head back and let out a wolf howl, which made Dongmin snap awake and fumble for one of his bracelets before he groaned.

“Hyung, what was that for?” He sank back against the chair and tried to burrow under his jacket again, but sleep was not to be regained.

“I was just cheering for my sexy little wolf boy.” Myungjun grinned.

Dongmin opened one eye and glared at Minhyuk, who shrugged helplessly.

Jinwoo returned from where he’d ducked away to see Nayoung. “What are you two doing?” He eyed Minhyuk and Myungjun warily.

“My feet were sore after dancing in high heels and Minhyukie and Binnie were giving me a foot rub but then Binnie and Sanha had to go be MCs with Kangmin so -”

“So I’m not taking over for Binnie,” Dongmin said.

Before Jinwoo could scold Minhyuk and Myungjun for being too close where people might see - even though they’d been close before and wouldn’t it be weirder if they were suddenly never close now? - one of the stylists hollered for Myungjun to clean up and get dressed for the next performance. He groaned and hauled himself to his feet to obey, but not before offering Minhyuk a sweet little smile in gratitude.

“Do you think we’ll win today?” Jinwoo asked. “I haven’t been looking at the voting, but I know the fans are working hard.”

“I haven’t looked either,” Dongmin admitted.

“Either way, we know we worked hard,” Minhyuk said. 

This was their second week of promotions. If they didn’t win this week, chances of them winning in subsequent weeks would be very slim no matter how hard the fans worked. They were up against some popular artists and teams. The one other boy group up this week was from a much bigger company and had a massive international following. Girl groups were, as a rule, insanely popular, because girls and boys alike were in their fandom, where boy group fandoms tended to skew mostly female. The two solo artists were formidable women in their own right. One of them was one of Sanha’s favorites, the other one of Minhyuk’s. When Minhyuk had encountered that sunbae in the hallway, he’d been nervous but polite, and not just because she had a Songbird with her, but after spending time with Yoona, he hadn’t been as nervous as he’d thought he’d be.

“Are you going to cry if we win?” Dongmin asked.

Minhyuk raised his eyebrows. “Me?”

Dongmin rolled his eyes. “I’m not asking about Jinwoo. That’s a given.” 

Jinwoo made a token sound of protest but didn’t deny it; he was the team’s crybaby.

“You didn’t cry the last time we won,” Dongmin continued.

“Not where anyone could see, no,” Minhyuk said. He didn’t really like crying in front of other people, but he also was not the greatest actor on the team, and sometimes it was unavoidable.

“Binnie and Sanha will cry for sure, since they’re MC-ing today,” Jinwoo said. _“If_ we win. Don’t jinx us.” 

Dongmin raised his hands in surrender. “I would never.”

Manager poked his head into the green room. “Jinwoo-ya, I need you.”

Jinwoo nodded and followed him into the hallway.

Dongmin eased himself off the couch and stretched, then plopped down beside Minhyuk to stretch some more. Minhyuk was the most flexible member of the team bar far, having earned his flexibility with his ballet training and then maintaining it for his martial arts training, but the others were as flexible as they needed to be for dancing.

“Do you ever feel like we’re monsters?” Dongmin asked in a low voice.

Minhyuk cast him a look. “Excuse me?”

“Because we’re here, doing this, when there are people out there doing - doing -” Dongmin cut himself off and shook his head.

“Well, people call me a monster to my face every day, so.” Minhyuk shrugged with as much nonchalance as he could muster.

Dongmin’s eyes went wide. “Minhyukie, no, I didn’t mean -” He bit his lip. “I’m sorry. I just - how do you deal with it? Being here, being safe, knowing that others...aren’t.”

Minhyuk took a deep breath, considering his next words. He kept his voice low. “My mother worked very hard for me to be here, as an idol, so I could be safe. The best way for me to keep her and my grandmother safe is to keep my head down and work hard. The best way for me to protect the rest of my kind is to be disconnected from them and lie as much as possible. How do I deal? I don’t, really. I dance, to get out of my head. And I have Myungjun now, but -”

But that was a double-edged sword waiting to cut him.

Minhyuk cleared his throat. “What has noona said, about everything that’s going on? Does she have a plan?”

“I need to find out where...headquarters are.” Dongmin spoke slowly, picking his words very carefully. 

Where the captives and their families were being held. Was it like some kind of dark and damp dungeon, or stark and white, like a mental hospital? Minhyuk had heard his grandmother’s murmurs about cages, blood, charnel houses, but he’d always assumed that was in the past, lost in the dusty pages of history books.

“Also I need to find records, if I can.”

“Would they even keep records?” Minhyuk asked. “Isn’t that dangerous to keep around?”

“Where there’s money, there’s records. There has to be, or people won’t believe they’re being paid fairly, and the entire thing could fall apart.” Dongmin pursed his lips thoughtfully. “Simply obtaining the records could be a significant disruption. Someone else would have to analyze them, but -”

“What are you two whispering about?” Myungjun asked.

The stylists were almost finished with him.

“Winning,” Dongmin said. “But we’re trying not to jinx ourselves.”

Myungjun tossed his head. “Of course we’re going to win this week. We’re going to win and I’m going to do amazing in the musical and you’re going to do amazing on your variety show and, as the fans say, we are headed for world domination.”

Minhyuk couldn’t help but smile at Myungjun’s enthusiasm. “That’s the spirit.” He pushed himself to his feet. “Let’s go.”

The nice thing about pre-recording was they could take shortcuts. Even if their performance of their title track was aired first, they’d record their special stage first and then change into the costumes for the title track, because they had to be wearing those costumes for the finale when this week’s winner was announced, and changing back and forth so many times was bothersome, because they had to get their hair and makeup changed to match their costumes.

The dry rehearsal for the special stage went well, and there was a break while they reviewed the footage on the monitor to make sure it was all right, and then it was time for the actual recording. 

Then it was back to the green room to eat and nap and relax and work on other things - research, Myungjun learning his lines for the play - while the production staff cleaned up the confetti from the confetti cannon (there was confetti at the end of every number) and redecorated the stage. Minhyuk and Jinwoo helped Myungjun learn his lines while Dongmin did some research into the problem of Myungsoon’s killer on his own. Sanha and Bin were on call to act as MCs after every performance, plus interview some of the other artists backstage.

It was a kindness on Jinwoo’s part, to help Myungjun with his lines so Minhyuk could be near him too. They sat on either side of him so they could all see the binder, and they did their best to be in character and speak on cue. Myungjun was warm and smelled good. Minhyuk missed him. They slept in the same bed every night, but they were always too tired for more than a few drowsy kisses or a quick tumble before they fell asleep. 

A PD poked her head into the room. “Be ready for your dry rehearsal in forty-five minutes.”

“Yes, thank you,” Dongmin said, and the woman smiled and blushed before she hurried away.

The stylists - who’d been in the corner playing Go Stop as a group on their phones - rallied themselves. They had to have everyone else done before Bin and Sanha returned so the stylists could focus on them in time for them to take the stage. Someone must have told the stylists about Dongmin sharing his jewelry with the others, because they had a collection of it that they chose from to accessorize Minhyuk and his teammates with.

“Does your mother know you’re letting us borrow all your special jewelry?” Myungjun asked as he inspected a ring the stylists had given him.

Jinwoo wore a thoughtful expression. “Is it very expensive? Soohyang and Dohee both talked about it like it was special.” His expression turned grim when he mentioned their names.

Soohyang and Dohee were both still in the hospital, recovering from their injuries.

“Individual pieces can be quite expensive, depending on their quality,” Dongmin said. “A lot of the pieces are heirlooms, like from my grandmother. Some of them are training weapons, so they aren’t quite as expensive. I always wear my personal favorites, of course.”

Myungjun said, “What if someone can’t whistle? Can they just...not become a Songbird?”

“Anyone can learn to whistle,” Dongmin said. “For some people, it’s easier than others, but it’s not genetic. Just like people can learn to sing. And if you never do figure out how to whistle, you can sing your spells, but obviously in battle that’s risky.”

“So anyone who can whistle and learn to fight can be a Songbird?” Jinwoo asked.

Dongmin shook his head. “No. Not everyone can use the magic.”

“So magic is genetic but whistling isn’t?” Jinwoo looked skeptical.

“Whistling really isn’t,” Dongmin said. “I was not a natural whistler as a child but I learned. I had to.”

But Myungjun grinned. “So basically it’s like Harry Potter. Dongmin and I are wizards. Everyone else is a muggle.” Then he cocked his head. “You can whistle, right, Jinwoo? See if you can draw my weapon.” He leaned in and bared his throat, showing off the necklace, an elegant silver chain with a leaf-like pendant.

Minhyuk shifted, alarmed. “Maybe it’s not a good idea for Jinwoo to draw a weapon he doesn’t know how to use while we’re in a relatively small space?”

“It’s not just a question of being able to whistle,” Dongmin said. “It’s - intent. Someone who happens to whistle the right combinations of notes won’t accidentally draw the weapon.”

“It wasn’t hard to learn, though,” Myungjun said.

Dongmin eyed him. “How did you even get your hands on a Songbird weapon? And learn its summoning spell?”

Myungjun avoided his gaze, but Minhyuk saw the shadows in his eyes. “It wasn’t cheap, or easy. But it was worth it.” He pursed his lips and whistled, three clear notes, sweet and high.

Minhyuk felt energy thrum through the air, and the hair on the back of his neck stood up.

A moment later, a silver sword gleamed in Myungjun’s hand.

Minhyuk and Jinwoo recoiled instinctively, but then Jinwoo peered closer. The sword would cut him, but it wouldn’t burn him like it would Minhyuk. His pulse started to speed up. Even though he knew Myungjun would never hurt him, something in him was starting to panic at the sight of the weapon.

Myungjun whistled three more notes, and the charm on his necklace had returned to its rightful place. Then he nodded at Jinwoo.

“You try.”

“What’s the melody?” Jinwoo pursed his lips.

Myungjun whistled it for him, and Minhyuk tensed, but he didn’t feel that same thrum of energy.

Jinwoo repeated the melody a few times, and then he furrowed his brow, and - nothing.

“I must not have magic,” he said, shrugging.

“It wasn’t easy for me at first,” Myungjun said. “You have to envision it happening. Like...when you’re learning a new dance move. At first you have to imagine your body doing it, but eventually you can just do it. You don’t have to picture it - you just think of the move and your body does it. It’s the same kind of thing.”

“That’s actually a really good explanation,” Dongmin said, scratching the side of his neck. “I might have caught on faster as a child if my trainers had explained it that way.”

He cast Minhyuk a look.

Minhyuk shrugged minutely.

Despite Jinwoo’s repeated efforts and Myungjun’s patient coaching, he was unable to draw the weapon.

“I must be a muggle.” Jinwoo nudged Minhyuk. “What about you?”

“Me? I’m pretty sure I have no magic,” Minhyuk said, which was a blatant lie, but Myungjun smiled at him.

“Just try. It couldn’t hurt.”

Minhyuk looked at Dongmin. Dongmin raised his eyebrows. Should Minhyuk deliberately fail the magic test?

Myungjun whistled the little melody for him.

Minhyuk could whistle just fine, all of them knew that. They dismissed his weaving of protective spells as idle whistling the few times they’d caught him at it. So Minhyuk whistled the little melody, and -

A silver sword flew toward him. Minhyuk yelped and backpedaled, crashed into a table. Dongmin lunged and caught the sword midair.

Dongmin whistled, and the sword disappeared.

“Let’s -” Jinwoo cleared his throat. “Let’s not try that again.”

Dongmin turned to the stylists, who’d cried out and grabbed each other in surprise. 

“Are you all right?”

They reassured him that they were fine.

“Wow, you have such good reflexes,” Myungjun said to Dongmin.

“Yeah. Thanks,” Minhyuk said tightly, heart racing.

Myungjun tugged Minhyuk close to him. “You’re a wizard too. Sorry, Muggle Jinwoo. You’re outnumbered.” He patted Minhyuk’s hair fondly.

Jinwoo blinked rapidly. “I think I’m okay with that.”

Bin and Sanha came dashing back into the green room.

“Sorry we took so long,” Sanha panted, heading straight for the costume rack. He ducked into the side room to change, then plopped down in one of the makeup chairs while Bin went to change.

“You all right?” Dongmin asked as they headed to the stage in their name bibs for the dry rehearsal.

Minhyuk nodded. “Yeah. Fine. I just -”

“Why didn’t you just fail it?”

“I tried to.”

Dongmin eyed him. He whispered, “Your magic must be impossibly strong. And yet you pretend to be ordinary. Is it maddening?”

“Being alive isn’t maddening,” Minhyuk whispered back.

Shadows descended in Dongmin’s eyes, and he nodded.

Minhyuk’s heart rate was back to normal by the time they reached the stage. Everything would be fine.


	16. Chapter 16

Gathering all the artists neatly on stage when there were so many of them was like herding cats. Luckily, Minhyuk could keep track of his teammates because their white costumes were highly visible, and he made sure to shuffle in close to them. Bin and Sanha weren’t in their stage costumes, because for this portion they were acting as MCs, Bin and Sanha tall on either side of young Kangmin, who was doing most of the speaking. They had little cue cards to read from - though they did practice their lines beforehand - but there was one portion of today’s script that couldn’t be on the cue cards.

Minhyuk was a professional. He was a veteran performer now, in his fifth year in the business. He knew he was supposed to keep an eye out for the red lights on the camera so he knew which camera to look into. But he could also see some of the staff hovering between the cameras below the stage, clutching sketchbooks and gazing up at the three MCs, waiting.

For them to announce this week’s winner.

Minhyuk couldn’t help it. He held his breath. And then the staff flipped their sketchbooks around and Kangmin said their name. The pause that followed seemed infinite. Had Kangmin read the sketchbooks wrong? But familiar music filled the room and then Kangmin was handing Minhyuk a trophy and -

All of the stress and tension that had been building up in Minhyuk came crashing down on him. Jinwoo sounded choked up. He was the team crybaby. If he started crying for real, Minhyuk was done for. His eyes stung. Dongmin was blinking rapidly, his eyes tear-bright. Even Sanha was sniffling, and Sanha never cried. He was the youngest but the furthest from being a crybaby. When someone shoved the microphone at Minhyuk, he surrendered the trophy to Dongmin, and he tried to say something coherent, but -

They’d won. They’d sprinted like mad for a month to make this album come together, and none of them had slept properly in over a week, and Bin was with them for this comeback, and it felt like what they did mattered. Minhyuk was pathetically relieved, because all he’d been able to think about was not getting found out, not dying, and the fans who loved them and supported them deserved better. They believed this was his dream, and he was so, so afraid his deceit would be uncovered, that fans would notice his effort was lacking, but the fans had worked hard to earn them this win, and it felt so good. He was doing enough for them, despite his weakness and cowardice.

He ducked behind Dongmin, glad he was tall enough to hide behind, and rapidly blinked back tears.

The other artists bowed and congratulated them as they shuffled off the stage, and then it was just the six of them. The encore was theirs. Bin was such a consummate performer, trying to sing, but he was crying and his voice was too tight to really hit those high notes. For one second, Minhyuk imagined grabbing Myungjun and dipping him in a kiss, just like in the old movies, but that was madness, and Sanha was crying really hard, so Minhyuk dragged him into a hug and held him fiercely.

When the song ended, they took their bows and thanked their fans - there was no audience; their fans had been robbed of the chance to celebrate with them in person - and then it was back to the green room to change. 

The stylists greeted them with cheers and applause, congratulated them. Manager gave all of them hugs, which just made Jinwoo cry even more. Even though all of them were overwhelmed, their night wasn’t over. They had to change back into street clothes, and they’d do an interview out on the sidewalk on their way to the van, and then they’d head back to the company to greet management, and Manager thought it would be a good idea for them to do a celebratory live stream for the fans - someone had ordered a congratulatory cake as soon as the result was announced - and then the night was theirs.

“You can each have  _ one _ drink,” Manager said. “One. As in...one whole beer, or a single shot of soju.”

Minhyuk didn’t like drinking, for many reasons. Bin, who was a notoriously good drinker, made a face but nodded, because they had schedules starting bright and early tomorrow.

As soon as Manager and the stylists departed, everyone changed clothes. Sanha was sniffling quietly. Jinwoo was still sniffling too. Dongmin kept dabbing at his eyes. Once Minhyuk was dressed, he set about packing up his gear, making sure he wasn’t leaving anything behind, and then he started packing up Myungjun’s things as well - the musical script in its neat blue binder, his phone and earpods and water bottle. Myungjun came to help him once he was in his street clothes.

“Are you all right?” Minhyuk asked in a low voice.

Myungjun nodded and sniffled but said nothing.

“Myungjunnie.” Minhyuk reached out, tugged Myungjun around to face him, but Myungjun wouldn’t meet his gaze, sniffling more.

Minhyuk ducked his head to try to catch Myungjun’s eye. “Hey. It’s okay. It’s just us.”

Myungjun nodded again. Minhyuk leaned in and kissed him softly on the mouth.

“Aish,” Jinwoo muttered. 

“Let them be,” Dongmin said. “You’d be doing that with Nayoung if you could.”

Jinwoo sighed. “I want to call her.” 

Minhyuk pulled back, smoothed a thumb over Myungjun’s cheek to wipe away a tear. “You did well today, and all along for this comeback, all right? You deserve this.”

Myungjun nodded and sniffled louder. Minhyuk pulled him close and held him tightly.

“I love you,” he whispered.

Myungjun wrapped his arms around Minhyuk and squeezed once, then relaxed into his embrace.

A knock on the door sent them apart.

“Give us your costumes,” one of the stylists said.

It was Sanha who gathered the costumes and eased open the door and surrendered them into several waiting pairs of hands.

“Are you ready?” Manager asked.

“Are we?” Jinwoo asked.

Minhyuk looked at Myungjun, who nodded and scooped up his bag, and together they headed for the door.

Other artists congratulated them as they headed for the elevators, and they bowed and offered thanks in return. 

Down on the street, they paused by the camera station so Jinwoo could offer more thanks about the win. Dongmin and Myungjun whispered reminders - to thank the choreographers, the stylist team, the people who’d written and produced the song. The PD team presented them with balloon crowns shaped like bunny ears as well as some congratulatory drinks and snacks, and each of them had the chance to offer a brief message of thanks to the fans and staff and their families.

Minhyuk was feeling a bit more clear-headed, was able to compose himself and speak clearly, be supportive of his teammates, but everything still felt surreal. They’d won.

They always told themselves that it wasn’t about winning or awards, it was about doing what they loved and doing things the fans loved, but winning felt like a reward for all their hard work. Especially with them not being able to see the fans, this win - which had mostly been earned for them by their fans’ diligent efforts in streaming their song and voting for them online - felt like an extra special gift from the fans, for all the hard work they’d put in.

Once the interview was done, they thanked the PD team for the treats and climbed into the van. No one blinked when Minhyuk and Myungjun curled up beside each other in the very back seat, Sanha tucked in on the other side of Myungjun and leaning into him, sharing his warmth.

“I love you,” Myungjun murmured into Minhyuk’s shoulder.

Jinwoo was on the phone to Nayoung, his deep voice a comforting rumble in the background. Bin was on the phone with his sister. Judging by his indignant tone, Sua was giving him a hard time. Minhyuk texted his family’s group chat, because he didn’t want to disturb Myungjun, and also he was pretty sure his younger brother had a big soccer game tomorrow and had gone to bed early.

Back at the company, upper management met them with a bottle of champagne and a flute for each of them, plus for all of their staff and team and Manager.

“Congratulations,” Sajangnim said. “Another win. Your fans worked hard for you.” 

They bowed and thanked him.

“Don’t let it get to your heads. And don’t think that this win will protect you from any of your recent poor choices, like that vastly misunderstood selca with Queen Yoona, that our PR team has been working on night and day to keep looking as innocent as you meant it to be. Or your ill-thought romance.” He glared at Minhyuk and Myungjun.

Myungjun lifted his chin defiantly.

“But still. A win. And on a song and an album that you managed to throw together in a month. You boys worked hard. Enjoy this moment.” 

Sajangnim then ceded the floor to that one Team-jangnim who’d tried to bully Minhyuk and Myungun into breaking up.

Minhyuk stood closer to Myungjun to absorb his warmth and be a source of comfort. Team-sajangnim droned on and on and on, and Minhyuk barely heard her speech. Even the ever-polite Dongmin looked like his attention was elsewhere. Sanha wasn’t paying attention either, head bowed, sniffling. The cake looked delicious at least, chocolate and topped with strawberries and a First Place candle. There was singing the congratulatory song, clinking glasses, drinking bittersweet champagne, and then upper management departed, on to their next conquest.

“We should greet the fans,” Jinwoo said.

They gathered in one of the conference rooms and set up the streaming device, made sure they were all visible on the couch and armchair they’d pushed together, and the cake was visible on the coffee table too. Minhyuk was careful not to sit beside Myungjun, because as emotionally raw as all of them were, he didn’t think he’d be able to restrain himself from cuddling close in a way that would look a little too close, even to fans who enjoyed seeing skinship between everyone on the team.

“Are we ready?” Manager asked.

They all looked at each other for confirmation, and Jinwoo nodded, and Manager fired up the app.

Minhyuk did his best to keep his head in the game, listening to his teammates talk, but he was a strange combination of exhausted and elated - and he was worried about Myungjun and Sanha, both of whom had said very little since they’d left the broadcast station. As the leader, Jinwoo did the most talking. Dongmin and Bin chimed in, and Minhyuk did his best to help out as well while Bin monitored the comments. They lit the candle, they sang the congratulatory song, and Jinwoo said, “Make a wish.”

Minhyuk closed his eyes and bowed his head and clasped his hands.

_ Please let Myungjun be safe and happy. _

And then it was time to blow out the candle.

“Make sure Sanha gets a chance to speak, if he wants,” Dongmin said.

Sanha pressed his lips into a thin line.

Minhyuk sat up straighter. “You can say what you want. This is our time.”

“I’m afraid I’ll start crying again,” Sanha muttered.

Jinwoo tsked. “Even though Sanha’s the youngest, he never cries, him and Minhyuk. But today, when I saw the two of them crying, that tipped me over the edge and I just cried more.”

Minhyuk was the only one who wasn’t teary-eyed again. People who’d first encountered Dongmin in his first major drama often assumed he was just as unfeeling and stoic as the character he’d portrayed, but he was actually a sensitive soul, and he kept blinking back tears and clearing his throat so he could speak clearly. The overflow of emotions was keeping Sanha and Bin reticent.

Myungjun hadn’t said anything.

Minhyuk leaned behind Dongmin and patted him on the knee. “You can say something. We haven’t heard from you yet.”

For all that Myungjun was the loud one, the energetic one, he was sometimes overlooked when it came time to say something serious or important; interviewers assumed he had nothing profound to say, and Minhyuk had never liked seeing him sidelined like that.

“Well, I - I might cry too,” Myungjun said, and burst into tears. He bowed his head, crying softly.

Minhyuk apologized quietly, patted his knee, but then Dongmin took over, and Jinwoo managed to communicate through subtle eyebrow waggles for someone to get tissue for Myungjun.

Myungjun managed to say a few words of gratitude before he jumped to his feet and strode out of the camera’s view, sobbing on the sidelines. Minhyuk watched him, chest tight, itching to jump up and follow him, comfort him. He was often a comfort to the others; fans had noticed it before. It wouldn’t look too weird if he went to Myungjun now, right? The staff knew about them - mostly to keep an eye on them and make sure they didn’t compromise the team. But Dongmin nudged Minhyuk’s foot with his, shook his head ever-so-slightly. Myungjun managed to compose himself enough to resume his seat between Bin and Jinwoo, and then Sanha was talking and needed the tissue. 

Bin was the one who reminded them to eat the cake, and Jinwoo fed them all strawberries off the top of it before they bade their farewells to the fans.

“And now, finally, we can all go home,” Manager said. “Good work, everyone. Team dinner when promotions are over. But for now - good night.”

In the van back to the dorm, Manager reminded them.

“One drink each.  _ One.” _

Rather than actually going out to a bar, the six of them decided to go out and buy drinks and enjoy them in the privacy and comfort of the dorm, so they set down their gear, scrubbed the makeup off their faces, jammed on caps and masks, and together they headed for the nearest convenience store.

“Minhyuk-ah, welcome!” Granny sang out. “What are you and your brothers doing here so late?”

“Good evening, Granny.” Minhyuk bowed and grinned at her. “We did well at work today, so we’re celebrating and need some drinks.”

Granny beamed at him. “Congratulations, Minhyuk-ah! I hope you get a nice bonus or promotion.”

“The success was reward enough, but thank you.” Minhyuk asked after her grandchildren while the others headed to the coolers at the back of the store to select their beverages of choice.

Myungjun was a good boyfriend and brought Minhyuk his favorite kind of cider. Jinwoo offered to pay, since he was their leader, and they loaded up the drinks in their shopping bag. They bade Granny farewell, and back to the dorms they went.

“I was starting to forget what fresh air felt like,” Bin said, tugging his mask down. “It’s like we never see sunlight except from behind the tinted windows of the van.”

“It feels good to be promoting, though.” Myungjun bumped Minhyuk’s shoulder with his affectionately. “As tiring and insane as it is, it means we’re working, right?”

The reminder of the year they’d spent without any promotions was sobering.

“We should get to bed as soon as possible,” Jinwoo reminded them as they turned down the alley that led to the back door of their apartment building. The van always picked them up out front, but if they were going somewhere on foot, it was habit to use the back entrance. 

“I’m too wired to fall asleep just yet,” Sanha said. “I think a drink will help me relax.”

“Just one,” Dongmin reminded them. They’d only bought one drink each, to be safe.

If Minhyuk drank more than one cider, the sugar would keep him awake. Myungjun, wiser than people gave him credit for, had selected a diet soda for him.

Someone was standing just beyond the back door; it wasn’t uncommon for people to hang around there for smoke breaks.

Dongmin reached out to input the door code, and the figure shifted, resolved itself into a man about their age, wearing a hoodie.

“Hey,” he said.

Dongmin inclined his head politely. “Good evening.”

Minhyuk was immediately wary of a stranger talking to them.

“I live in the apartment down the hall from yours,” the man said.

“Hello,” Dongmin said politely.

The man scratched the side of his neck. “Listen, you - you’re Cha Eunwoo, right?”

Dongmin went into professional mode. The others shifted closer to him.

“I am.”

“My mom is a huge fan of the dramas you’ve been in, and my little sister, she loves your group. Astro, right?”

Dongmin nodded. “Yes, my team is Astro.”

The man reached into the pocket of his hoodie. “I was wondering…”

He probably wanted an autograph. Sanha stifled an annoyed sigh.

“Is being with Yoona worth it?” The man’s tone changed from light and conversational to deep, aggressive. 

“Pardon?” Dongmin asked.

“Because you broke my sister’s heart!” The man lunged, and a blade flashed in the shadows.

Dongmin jumped back, sweeping the others with him.  _ “Run!” _

Sanha stumbled and fell. Bin hauled him to his feet.

Minhyuk grabbed Myungjun’s wrist and started toward the main street just around the corner - and a group of other men in hoodies, carrying baseball bats and pipes and chains and knives came toward them.

“Other way!” Jinwoo shouted, and the six of them took off toward the far end of the alley, back toward the convenience store.

There was a metallic  _ clink _ as Bin dropped the bag of drinks.

Just as they reached the end of the alley, someone else stepped out of the shadows, a slight figure in a hoodie. A girl. She threw her hood back - and then she pounced on Myungjun, dragged him out of Minhyuk’s grip.

She looked - dead. Pale. Eyes sunken. Lips cracked.

“We have to get out of here,” Myungjun said. “It’s not safe. The men back there are -”

The girl grabbed Myungun’s arm in both hands and  _ twisted. _

The snap of bone was audible.

Myungjun screamed.

His scream cut off - as the girl inhaled.

She was a song-eater.

Sanha screamed in terror. Bin clapped a hand over his mouth, but the girl whipped around to look at him.

Jinwoo shouted for Dongmin.  _ “Song-eater!” _

But the armed men were closing in on them from behind.

Minhyuk didn’t even think. He lunged and grabbed the girl, wrenched her away from Myungjun, and kicked her across the alley. She landed hard but picked herself up immediately.

Dongmin’s shrill whistle made all the hair on Minhyuk’s skin stand up, but he had no time to pay attention to him. He had to protect Myungjun. 

“Hyung!” Bin shouted.

Myungjun was crying.

Sanha and Jinwoo were shouting Dongmin’s name, telling him to watch out. 

Dongmin was yelling for them to run, to call 119, to call Yoona.

“I can’t find my phone!” Sanha sobbed.

Minhyuk was on the song-eater before she could make a move toward Myungjun. All his old sparring instincts came roaring back to the forefront, but he’d never sparred like this, at full power. He spun and kicked her in the head, and she dropped. He was on her and stomping on her ribs a second later.

She grabbed his ankle, rolled.

He managed to land on top of her, used his momentum to keep rolling them till he was on top. He punched her in the face.

She snarled - and inhaled when someone else screamed.

The scream was from someone unfamiliar. Distantly, Minhyuk was aware of a blade singing through the air, of the coppery tang of blood, of curses and the sound of people hitting each other. But he didn’t care. He grabbed her jaw and leaned in - and stole the scream from her.

She screamed and writhed beneath him, and he inhaled that too.

When he pulled back, energy sparking in his veins like lightning, she stared at him.

“Cousin,” she whimpered.

“I’m no murderer like you,” he spat.

“Cousin,” she whimpered again. “Kill me. Please. Kill me. But - save my sister. Save Miyeon.”

Minhyuk scrambled away from her, horrified. 

She whimpered again. “Please. I’m begging you. She’s just a human. She could live a good life. I don’t want to kill anymore, and I’m always so...so thirsty... _ please…” _

“And don’t come back!” Bin shouted.

Minhyuk turned.

Several men were fleeing into the shadows.

Several more young men lay on the ground, groaning, injured and bleeding.

“Dongmin!” Minhyuk shouted.

The man striding toward Minhyuk wasn’t the Dongmin he knew. He moved swiftly, purposefully. His shining silver blades were stained with blood and gore. So were his clothes.

So was his perfect face.

“The song-eater,” Minhyuk said. “I can’t - you have to -”

“You managed to subdue her?” Dongmin asked, coming to stand over her.

The girl was crying. “Please. Kill me. Save Miyeon.”

Dongmin said, “Who sent you?”

“Miyeonie -”

_ “Who sent you?” _

Sanha screamed.  _ “Hyung!” _

Bin swore. “I’m calling 119.”

Sanha was on his knees on the ground, sobbing and wailing, rocking back and forth, Jinwoo’s head in his lap. “They’ll be too late. Hyung, no, please please please -”

Minhyuk dashed across the alley, dropped to his knees beside Jinwoo. Blood stained Jinwoo’s jacket and t-shirt and jeans.

His eyes were open, unseeing, his breath ragged and uneven.

“They stabbed him,” Sanha stammered out between sobs. He had his hands pressed into Jinwoo’s side. Putting pressure on the wound.

Bin was screaming into his phone at the 119 operator.

Myungjun, cradling his injured arm against his side, stumbled over to them, face streaked with tears.

An unholy shrieking filled the air around them, a chorus of a thousand tortured voices rising toward the sky at once.

Minhyuk cast a wild look about him - and saw Dongmin kneeling beside the girl, one of his swords in her chest.

When the chorus dwindled, it faded to a single, sweet, clear voice, a little girl’s voice singing a lullaby before it died completely. 

“W-what’s happening?” Myungjun asked.

Dongmin cleaned his blades on the girl’s clothes, whistled, and his weapons disappeared. He hurried over to them. “The song-eater is dead. What happened to Jinwoo-hyung?”

“He - he’s dying,” Sanha sobbed.

Dongmin’s face was pale beneath the blood spatters. “Hyung! We have to call -”

“Binnie’s calling,” Myungjun said, voice shaking. 

Dongmin shook his head. “They won’t get here in time. They -”

Minhyuk’s heart roared in his ears. He couldn’t let Jinwoo die. He rose, crossed the alley to the nearest fallen man. He knelt, checked his pulse. The man was alive.

Minhyuk wrenched the man into a sitting position, grabbed his arm, and twisted. Felt the bone snap before he heard it.

The man screamed.

Minhyuk leaned in and drank down his scream till he was almost gone. Then he let the man drop, stood up, and went back to Jinwoo.

“What did you just do?” Myungjun demanded.

Minhyuk knelt beside Jinwoo, sealed his mouth over Jinwoo’s like he was doing CPR, and gave him the scream.

Jinwoo gasped and shifted, legs kicking a little. When Minhyuk sat up, there was some lucidity in Jinwoo’s eyes, but it was fading fast.

_ “What did you just do?” _ Myungjun stared at him.

Minhyuk couldn’t look at him. He went to find the next man, but that man was unconscious, a limb half-severed, blood pooled all around him and spreading. Of the five men lying in the alley, only two were conscious enough to scream, but Minhyuk took all he could short of killing them and gave it to Jinwoo.

It wasn’t enough.

Minhyuk looked up at Bin, who’d dropped his phone and was staring at him in horror. “Sing for me.”


	17. Chapter 17

“What? Minhyukie, you -” Bin swallowed hard.

Dongmin said, “Do it.”

Bin stammered. “But I - he - _he -”_

“Jinwoo will die if you don’t!”

Bin started to hyperventilate.

Minhyuk turned to Sanha. “If you share your voice with me willingly, it won’t hurt.”

Sanha stared at him for a long moment. But then, voice trembling, he began to sing, an old nursery rhyme.

Minhyuk swallowed hard, and he inhaled - slowly, carefully.

Sanha’s voice - clear, sweet, full-toned where Dongmin’s was airy and Myungjun’s and Binnie’s were high - turned muffled, like he was in a distant room behind a closed door. His voice tasted like a gentle summer day, and plum blossoms, and warm green tea. Minhyuk cut himself off, and Sanha doubled over, coughing. He’d be mute till his body recovered the energy he’d lost.

And what energy it was, pure and sparkling, crystal-clear. Minhyuk leaned in and gave the music to Jinwoo.

He groaned and started to cough. “Sanha. Sanha, you have to run, you -”

Sanha patted Jinwoo’s shoulder with one bloody hand, speaking soundlessly, desperate reassurances.

“How is this possible?” Myungjun’s voice shook - with fury.

“It doesn’t matter,” Dongmin said. “Jinwoo-hyung is still dying.”

Bin started to sing. His voice was clearer, steadier. He was singing an old pop song.

Minhyuk had tasted it - the barest sips - on a few occasions in the past, accidents borne of exhaustion or incaution. Now, unfiltered and raw, it was like moonlight and spun sugar, a happy spring evening and the scent of the sea. Minhyuk was so, so careful, to make sure he didn’t take Bin’s voice completely, and then he gave the song to Jinwoo.

It felt like lightning was arcing between them, dancing back and forth till Minhyuk had poured all of the energy into him.

“Minhyuk, what are you doing?” Jinwoo slurred.

Bin doubled over, coughing and clutching his throat.

Dongmin bit his lip. “It’s still not quite enough. He’s still bleeding. Myungjun-hyung -”

Minhyuk squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. “No. I can’t. Don’t ask that of him.”

“But - Jinwoo-hyung -”

“Give me your voice. I won’t make you temporarily mute. You need to be able to talk to the police, explain what happened. You’re a Songbird. They’ll believe you. We were attacked by those men - angry antis - and a song-eater at the same time. It was a terrible coincidence. She killed some of those men, we killed some of those men, and she attacked us. You defended us and killed her.” Minhyuk was horrified by the words spilling past his lips, but it made sense. This was the story they had to tell. “She didn’t take mine and Jinwoo’s voices because we’re rappers, and most people don’t know I can sing. You defended Myungjun, and that’s why his voice is mostly intact.”

Dongmin nodded. “All right.” He cleared his throat. 

And he sang.

His voice tasted like a cool, crisp autumn morning with a brisk breeze, like dalgona coffee and whipped cream.

Minhyuk took as much as he dared without leaving Dongmin totally mute, and then he gave the music to Jinwoo.

Who groaned and tried to sit up.

“No, hyung, don’t.” Dongmin sounded terribly hoarse. “You were stabbed. Cut. Very badly. Don’t move. Ambulances and police are on the way.”

Myungun, sitting beside Sanha, said nothing. His expression was blank. His gaze was empty.

Minhyuk couldn’t look at him. He reached out to Sanha, but Sanha flinched away.

Minhyuk sat back on his heels and pressed his hands to his knees.

They were all alive, and his life was over.

* * *

Dongmin told his story to the police. Bin and Sanha, unable to speak, scribbled out versions of something similar on one of the police officer’s notepads. Myungjun said nothing, kept his lips pressed into a thin line. He shook off anyone who tried to touch him, including his teammates, till EMTs splinted his broken arm for the ride to the hospital. 

“He’s traumatized,” Dongmin explained to a frowning police officer. “The song-eater attacked him first, broke his arm to make him scream so she could try to steal his voice. He’s our main vocalist.”

“It’s pretty clear what happened,” another police officer said, shaking her head, sympathetic.

It was Bomi who arrived on behalf of the Songbirds to help handle the rest. She confirmed that Dongmin was, in fact, a trained Songbird and licensed to kill song-eaters. The whole event was a tragedy and a disaster, antis attacking them at the same time as a song-eater.

Minhyuk, of course, confirmed what Dongmin said. He stayed close to Dongmin, wary of the police and the other Songbirds who came to help Bomi and the rest of his teammates. 

Jinwoo was rushed to the hospital. He’d been stabbed early on, Sanha reported, his handwriting shaky. 

Chances of him remembering anything specific about the attack were slim, even though he’d been lucid enough to listen to Dongmin’s explanation of what they would tell police and Songbirds and had agreed to stick to the story. 

He’d made all of them promise not to say anything about Minhyuk till they were alone, just the six of them, and could talk. 

Every time Minhyuk looked at Myungjun, Myungjun turned away from him, and Minhyuk felt cold guilt churn in his gut. Even though Myungjun had a sour twist to his mouth, he didn’t say anything about Minhyuk being a song-eater, not to Bomi or any of the other Songbirds who questioned him.

At the hospital, all of them were checked over for injuries before they were installed in a hospital room together. Sanha had sprained his ankle when he tripped. Bin and Minhyuk were bruised and scratched from brawling. Myungjun had to get his broken arm x-rayed and set and put in a cast. Dongmin, for all that he was covered in blood, was relatively unharmed, had a few bumps and bruises as well. Jinwoo had to get stitches for the hideous gash in his side, and it would probably leave a nasty scar, but plastic surgery could help with that down the road. A doctor who specialized in injuries from song-eaters checked over everyone who’d been fed on by the song-eater.

She was in the middle of examining Bin when Manager arrived.

“Your parents are waiting in the hallway, but where you’re all adults, they can’t come in until you give them permission,” he said. “I’m here as your patient guardian, of course. How are they?”

“Very lucky indeed,” Dr. Yoo said. “All of them will recover their voices fully, but until then they must be very careful not to strain themselves. Whatever their preferred remedies are for strained voices - honey tea, that sort of thing - they should use frequently. Moon Bin and Yoon Sanha should avoid speaking at all for at least a week.”

“And Jinwoo?” Manager asked.

“He’s lucky the cut wasn’t deeper than it was. As long as he engages in appropriate aftercare, the wound should heal well, though he will have quite the scar.” Dr. Yoo’s expression was sympathetic. She was aware that they were idols and that physical appearances meant a lot in the idol business. “Myungjun-ssi’s arm should heal fine as well. He can come back to have the cast off in about six weeks. It was a clean break and set easily.”

Each of them had their own hospital beds, but Minhyuk was sitting between Dongmin and Jinwoo’s beds, keeping his head down, keeping quiet. Everyone assumed he was traumatized by what had happened. He probably had been, but the attack was over and done with. He had bigger things to worry about - like the fact that his team had been targeted by Songbird Senior Command, and all his teammates knew the truth of what he was.

“Can their families see them?” Manager asked.

“One at a time, and only for a short while,” Dr. Yoo said. “I’d like to keep all of them overnight for observation.”

Manager looked at Minhyuk and his team. “Do you want to see your families right now?”

They all nodded vigorously. 

Manager nodded. “I’ll get Jinwoo’s parents first.” He ducked out.

Minhyuk scooted closer to Dongmin’s bed so Jinwoo and his parents could have a modicum of privacy. It was a silent Bin who thought to jump up and draw the privacy curtain around Jinwoo’s bed. He and Sanha had been given little whiteboards and markers so they could write messages, but both of them were already frustrated with the system. Sanha’s phone had been broken during the attack, and Bin’s phone was damaged, the screen cracked. Once both of them had new phones, they could type messages, which would be faster.

Sanha crawled off of his bed and curled up beside Bin. Minhyuk could feel both of them looking at him, but every time he looked at them, they looked away too.

Myungjun’s parents were let in next. Minhyuk couldn’t bring himself to look at them. Apparently all the other parents had been told Dongmin was a Songbird, and Myungjun’s parents thanked him profusely, which he accepted stiffly, obviously uncomfortable. Myungjun’s mother wept, praising the heavens that she hadn’t lost her baby boy like she’d lost her baby girl. Myungjun did his best to comfort his parents, hugging them tightly. But he demurred when they asked him to come home with them. He told them it was safer for him to stay with his team - and his Songbird teammate. Besides, lightning didn’t strike twice. Now the world knew Cha Eunwoo was a Songbird, and song-eaters would be crazy to try for them again.

That comment led to another round of Myungjun’s parents thanking Dongmin and offering him money and gifts, which made him look panicked.

“No, you don’t have to do that. Myungjun is my hyung, my teammate. I’d have protected him even if I weren’t a Songbird,” he said.

He hadn’t been the one to project Myungjun, though. That had been Minhyuk.

Manager gently reminded Myungjun’s parents that other couples wanted to see their children. Sanha’s family was allowed in next. Bin barely managed to get out of the way before Sanha’s brothers pounced on Sanha and hugged him, and then their mother hugged him for even longer while his father thanked Dongmin, who was starting to look a bit green around the gills. Sanha’s mother started crying when she realized he really couldn’t talk, but Sanha hastened to scribble out a message reassuring her he’d get his voice back, and he decorated it with hearts. For a while Sanha sat on Bin’s bed, his entire family clustered around him, just _being_ with each other.

Bin’s parents were allowed in next. His mother fussed over him incessantly, fluffing his pillows, tucking the blanket around him. She’d stopped by one of his favorite snack restaurants for some stick rice, which he gobbled down enthusiastically. It was disconcerting, to see tall, broad, strong Bin being coddled like that, but - 

Tonight all of them had almost died. Men had died tonight. A girl had died tonight. Minhyuk and Dongmin had killed people.

Minhyuk looked down, expecting to see blood on his hands, but a nurse had brought him a warm washcloth to clean himself up after the doctor finished examining him.

Bin’s parents left, and then Dongmin’s parents came in.

Minhyuk immediately scooted away from Dongmin’s bed. He ended up skirting around to the other side of Jinwoo’s bed, his heart beating rapidly in his chest. Dongmin’s father was quiet, concerned. He looked - pained. The Lees weren’t a Songbird clan. How much did Dongmin’s father know about what Songbirds did? Had he watched his son throw himself into danger all growing up? There was something about the sorrow in his eyes that made Minhyuk want to weep.

Dongmin’s mother was terrifying. Because she was perfect. Perfectly concerned, perfectly affectionate, perfectly sweet as she checked over her boy, her darling son. But they all knew she was a Songbird, and a member of Senior Command to boot. Everyone who looked at her thought she was a perfect doting mother, so afraid of the peril her son had been in, the danger he’d faced, the injuries - however minor - he’d accrued.

Minhyuk knew she was cold. Calculating. Had sent that song-eater after her own son and his teammates so she could preserve the secret of generations upon generations of genocide, of the enslavement and destruction of Minhyuk’s kind.

She leaned down to press a kiss to Dongmin’s brow, every inch the loving mother - and she whispered something in his ear, something that made his expression go cold and blank.

And then she was begging her husband to hurry them home so she could make porridge and other homemade food to speed her son’s healing.

It hadn’t occurred to Minhyuk that his parents would actually _be_ there until Manager let them in, and then -

It was just his mother. She hurried across the room and threw her arms around him.

“I convinced your father and brother to stay home, so your brother doesn’t miss his game. They’re both so worried about you -”

“I’m fine,” Minhyuk said.

Eomma squeezed him tight again. She spoke, too softly for humans to hear, “Are you all right?”

He replied, “I didn’t kill her.”

When she pulled back, she spoke to him in satoori. “I’ll make you all the kimbap you can eat and more.” She smoothed a hand over his hair.

He leaned into her caress, eyes squeezed shut. He wanted to cry, but he didn’t dare, because then she’d cry, and he couldn’t let her stay, not near Dongmin’s mother.

“I’m fine,” he said. “I’m the least injured out of all of us. It’s all thanks to Dongmin-hyung. He’s a Songbird. He comes from one of the best Songbird clans. We’re lucky he’s on our team.” Minhyuk opened his eyes and managed a wobbly smile.

Minhyuk’s mother wasn’t as perfect an actress as Dongmin’s mother. Her eyes went wide, and she swallowed hard. She turned to Dongmin and bowed.

“Dongmin-ah, thank you for protecting my precious son.”

“Eomoni, please, no, don’t bow to me,” Dongmin began.

She straightened up and caught Dongmin’s gaze, held it. “I know you’ll take good care of him in future, too. As his good and honorable hyung.”

Dongmin swallowed hard. “Yes, Eomoni. I will.”

Eomma grabbed Minhyuk and hugged him one more time, pressed a kiss to his cheek, and promised she’d be back tomorrow with lots of kimbap. She thanked Manager for looking after all the boys, and she left. 

Manager, who’d watched over all the visits, headed for the door. “The company will release a preliminary statement, but I’m sure you know the gist of it. Song-eater attack combined with attack by antis upset over the false allegations of Eunwoo dating Yoona. Brave Songbird Eunwoo protected his teammates in the face of overwhelming odds.”

Dongmin slewed Minhyuk a look, but he was curled on the chair beside Jinwoo’s bunk, shoulders up around his ears.

“As soon as you’re all healthy enough, you should send a message to the fans,” Manager said. “I’ll keep the press away from you for now.”

Jinwoo nodded. “Yes, Manager.” He yawned.

“Obviously all your schedules are on hold until you’ve all recovered,” Manager said. He headed for the door. “Sleep well tonight. I’ll be back in the morning.”

They bade him good night - Sanha waggled his whiteboard - and watched him go.

As soon as the door was shut behind him, Dongmin whistled three notes.

“What was that?” Myungjun demanded.

“A privacy spell, so we have no unwanted interruptions,” Dongmin said. 

Myungjun said, “I know that tune.” He glanced at Minhyuk but looked away before they made eye-contact.

Minhyuk cleared his throat. “I put it on our door at night, sometimes. So the others don’t walk in on us.”

Myungjun said, “You’re a song-eater.”

“I am.”

 _“How?”_ Jinwoo demanded.

Sanha and Bin both shook their whiteboards with the same word written on them.

Dongmin said, “Everything you think you know about song-eaters is wrong.”

Myungjun said, “Everything we know about song-eaters we learned from you and other Songbirds.” His tone was flat. Cold.

Dongmin closed his eyes and sighed. Then he opened his eyes. “I only learned the truth recently.”

Myungjun lifted his chin in Minhyuk’s direction. “From _him?”_

“From an older Songbird,” Dongmin said.

“Why should we believe you?” Myungjun was clutching his pillow protectively to his chest, knuckles white. “You encouraged _that thing_ to attack Bin and Sanha.”

Minhyuk flinched.

Jinwoo said, slowly, “But Minhyuk healed me, didn’t he? Like it said in that one book. He took the songs he got from Bin and Sanha and gave them to me, right?”

Minhyuk said, “If you wanted, I could heal you a bit more. So you don’t scar.”

“Shut up,” Myungjun snapped. He looked at Dongmin. “Prove we really can trust you to protect us. Kill the song-eater.”

Bin’s mouth fell open.

“Hyung, wait,” Jinwoo began, but Dongmin whistled three notes and had one of his shining silver swords in hand.

He hopped off his bed and grabbed Minhyuk by the hair, wrenched his head back.

Even though the blade wasn’t touching Minhyuk’s skin, he could feel the magic humming through it, waiting to burn him.

“Which way would you prefer?” Dongmin asked. “Traditionally we’d cut out their tongues and let them choke slowly on their own blood, but I could just slit his throat. That’d be quicker.”

Minhyuk closed his eyes.

“Dongmin-ah,” Jinwoo said, alarmed. 

Minhyuk opened his eyes and saw Jinwoo trying to climb out of his bed. Bin went to restrain him. Sanha scrambled off his bunk and was at Dongmin’s side, tugging on his wrist, trying to pull the sword away from Minhyuk’s throat, speaking rapidly even though no sound was coming out. His eyes were wide and he looked terrified and he was crying all over again.

“If it makes him feel better,” Minhyuk said.

“No!” Jinwoo shook Bin off. “Explain what’s going on. How the _hell_ is Minhyuk a song-eater? He’s a _he._ He can sing! He -”

“As I said, everything you think you know about song-eaters is wrong.” Dongmin’s tone was calm and even.

Bin wrote on his whiteboard, _“Put your sword away and tell us.”_

“We’ll listen,” Jinwoo added, casting Myungjun a look.

Myungjun turned his face away, jaw set tightly.

Sanha wagged his whiteboard. _“Tell us.”_

* * *

“Why should we believe you?” Myungjun asked.

It was almost daylight again. None of them had slept while Dongmin, still hoarse from sacrificing his voice for Jinwoo, told them everything he’d learned from Yoona - though he’d carefully left out any mention of her specifically. 

“You think I want to believe that my own mother is capable of systematic genocide?” Dongmin asked. “You didn’t hear that song-eater last night. She was begging me to kill her, because she couldn’t stand the constant starvation. And she begged me to save her human sister.”

“So we’re just supposed to believe that all song-eaters are actually good and all senior Songbirds are evil and not to be trusted?” Myungjun shook his head.

Dongmin said, “Song-sharers are like the rest of us. Most of us are ordinary. Some humans are murderers too. But most of the ones who hunt - they’re being weaponized against their will because their families are held hostage.”

“Or they’re the source of miracle cures,” Jinwoo said.

The entire time Dongmin had talked, Jinwoo, Sanha, and Bin had peppered him with questions. Myungjun’s questions weren’t curiosity as much as a challenge.

Minhyuk had said nothing, curled on his chair, flinching every time Myungjun asked about _those creatures._

“None of that is going to bring my sister back,” Myungjun said. “None of that is going to bring justice for anyone else who was murdered by song-eaters, for whatever reason.”

“Don’t you get it?” Dongmin said. “Killing song-sharers won’t stop the killing, because we’ll never find them all. Senior Command has made sure of that.”

“Are they song-eaters or song-sharers?” Jinwoo asked.

Dongmin sighed. “I tend to think of song-sharers as the normal ones, and song-eaters as the few who really do murder indiscriminately, out of some kind of vengeance or greed for immortality.”

“So...Minhyuk is a song-sharer,” Jinwoo said.

“He’s a _liar,”_ Myungjun spat.

Minhyuk flinched again.

“What did you expect him to do?” Jinwoo asked. “Let himself be killed when he’s never done anything wrong?”

“How do we know he hasn’t? All we have is his word, and he’s obviously lied to us, over and over again,” Myungjun said.

 _“You weren’t that mad when you found out Dongmin had been lying to us,”_ Bin pointed out, tapping his whiteboard with his marker for emphasis.

“Well, Dongmin hasn’t been killing innocent humans. For all we know, Minhyuk -” Myungjun narrowed his eyes. “For all we know, he’s been feeding from us little by little all along.”

Minhyuk lifted his head sharply. “No, Myungjunnie, I would never -”

 _“Don’t_ call me that. You don’t get to call me that.” Fire flashed in Myungjun’s eyes.

Minhyuk shrank back.

And then Myungjun said, “That first time you kissed me. We were sitting together, and I was singing, and after the kiss I started coughing. Did you - did you _steal my voice?”_

“It was an accident,” Minhyuk said in a small voice. “I gave it back as soon as I could. I’ve never stolen from any of you. I mean, when I was younger sometimes when I was really tired after a long day of training I accidentally stole a bit from Bin, but I always gave it back.”

Bin’s eyes went wide.

“I’ve never stolen from any of you,” Minhyuk said desperately. “Sometimes I’d drink from a live radio station - just instrumental music - to share with you if you were tired, or if you hadn’t eaten enough that day, but I would never -” He shook his head. “I wouldn’t hurt you. I promise. I love you -”

“Don’t ever say those words to me again.” Myungjun’s voice cracked like a whip.

Minhyuk fell silent. His chest was tight, and it was hard to breathe, and he wanted to cry.

Jinwoo bit his lip, looking back and forth between them.

Dongmin said, “You’re in no position to be hateful toward him. The only reason you can even use a Songbird weapon is -”

“Hyung, no,” Minhyuk burst out. He shook his head. “Please. You said you wouldn’t.”

“I didn’t promise,” Dongmin said, which was such a Dongmin thing to say, such a _lawyer_ thing that Minhyuk almost laughed.

“Tell me what?” Myungjun demanded.

“You don’t want to know,” Minhyuk said. “You really don’t.”

Myungjun turned to Dongmin. “Tell me. You owe me - owe _us_ after all lies you’ve told and kept on telling.”

“He told us he was a Songbird,” Jinwoo protested.

“About the song-eater he’s been harboring,” Myungjun snapped.

Dongmin said, “You have song-sharer blood.”

 _“What?”_ Myungjun’s voice was as cold as ice.

“Minhyuk is a song-sharer but his brother isn’t. Not every child of a song-sharer becomes a song-sharer, not if one of their parents is a regular human,” Dongmin said. “Songbirds are concerned about clans and bloodlines for a reason - because magic is in our blood. You saw it - Minhyuk and I know some of the same whistle spells, because it’s _the same magic._ Remember how Minhyuk could just _draw_ your weapon on the first try? Because his whistle magic is stronger than mine, stronger than any Songbird’s.”

Bin’s mouth fell open.

Sanha’s mouth fell open.

Myungjun shook his head. “You’re lying.”

“I’m not,” Dongmin said. “I wish I was, but I’m not.”

Myungjun tossed his head. “No. It’s not true. No!” 

Sanha scrambled off his bed and hurried over to Myungjun’s, tried to crawl up beside him to comfort him, but Myungjun shoved him away.

“I’m not a monster. I share _nothing_ with the beast who slaughtered my sister. I’m human, and every monster deserves to die,” Myungjun spat.

“If you really believe that,” Dongmin said, “then _you_ kill Minhyuk.”

He whistled, and a shining silver sword appeared midair. The one Myungjun wore on his necklace. Dongmin caught it by the hilt, held it out to Myungjun.

Myungjun stared at it.

Minhyuk watched Myungjun’s chest rise and fall with rapid, shallow breaths, watched him reach for the sword and take it from Dongmin.

Minhyuk uncurled himself from his chair and circled around Jinwoo’s bed, knelt down in front of Myungjun, and bowed his head to bare his neck. Jinwoo called his name sharply. Bin and Sanha tapped frantically at their whiteboards.

Minhyuk said, “I’m sorry I lied to you. I know I don’t deserve to ask this of you, but - make it fast. For Sanha and the others.” He closed his eyes.

He’d always known this day would come.

He whispered, too soft for humans to hear, _I love you._

Myungjun whistled sharply, and Minhyuk felt magic thrum through the air. He lifted his head.

The sword was gone, gleaming on Myungjun’s necklace once more.

He pushed past Dongmin and Sanha and Bin and headed for the door.

Jinwoo said, “Bin, stay with him.”

Bin nodded and ran after Myungjun.

Minhyuk wilted to the floor, sobbing quietly.

Someone knelt beside him. There were arms around his shoulders.

“What’s wrong with you?” Dongmin demanded. “Why are you always so willing to die?”

“Because,” Minhyuk said, “that’s what always happens to the monsters in the end.”

Sanha crouched down beside him and wrapped his arms around him from the other side. He was crying too.

Jinwoo sank back against his pillows with a shaky exhale. “Please tell me this is a dream.”

Dongmin pulled back from Minhyuk and pushed himself to his feet. “I’ve been saying the same thing since I found out the truth.” He went and sprawled on his bed.

Minhyuk let Sanha tug him up and over to Sanha’s bed, let Sanha crawl onto the bed beside him and hold him close and tuck the blankets around him.

“You don’t think Myungjun will do something crazy, do you?” Jinwoo asked.

“Bin will handle him,” Dongmin said. “I’m sure of it.”

Minhyuk closed his eyes and let himself absorb Sanha’s warmth and presence. He missed Myungjun suddenly, with a sharp, stabbing ache. They huddled together, drowsing.

Jinwoo started to snore.

The buzz of a cellphone jolted Minhyuk awake.

He opened his eyes. Whose phone was it? His was intact. Jinwoo’s was also a loss. Manager had promised to get word to Nayoung for him.

Dongmin answered his phone. “Noona.” He went from sleepy to alert in an instant, sitting upright. “You got a call from Bomi-noona? One of my teammates reported to her that we have a male song-eater on our team and that he attacked our other teammates? Thank you for letting me know. I understand. I appreciate it. I’ll handle things on my end. No, we’re all fine. Sanha and Bin and I sacrificed our voices temporarily so Minhyuk could heal Jinwoo-hyung. I never had the chance to tell Bomi, but the girl whose life I ended tonight - she said she had a younger sister, a human named Miyeon. Thank you. You have more resources than I do. I’ll be sure to pass your well-wishes on to the others. Have a good day, noona.” He set his phone down.

Jinwoo and Sanha stared at him.

“Yoona’s involved in all this?” Jinwoo asked.

Sanha scrambled for his whiteboard, scribbled on it. _“She was the one who told you the truth, wasn’t she? You asked us to call you Dongmin soon after you and Minhyuk met with her.”_

Dongmin nodded. “Yes.”

“If Myungjun had gone to anyone else, any other Songbird -”

“Every Songbird who responded tonight was from Yoona’s faction,” Dongmin said.

“Faction?” Jinwoo asked.

“I told you everything there was to know about true song-sharer lore,” Dongmin said. “But there’s more. So much more.”

Jinwoo sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t really want to know, but - tell us.”

“Should I wait for Bin to get back?”

As if on cue, the door opened, and Bin shoved an annoyed-looking Myungjun through the doorway, marched him over to his bed, pointed and stomped his foot.

“I’m older than you,” Myungjun said.

Bin loomed over him.

Myungjun climbed onto his bed and hugged his pillow once more.

Jinwoo said, “Bin and Myungjun are back. So tell us.”

 _“Tell us what?”_ Bin mouthed.

Dongmin said, “About the Songbird factions.”


	18. Chapter 18

  


“So basically, if I try to tell a Songbird about Minhyuk, she’s either part of Yoona’s faction and won’t do anything, or she’s from your mother’s faction and she’ll try to have us killed,” Myungjun said.

Dongmin said, “Again. Tonight’s attack was from Senior Command. I don’t know if the antis were just a terrible coincidence or if maybe they were sent in as patsies. Have a grudge? Use a song-eater for hire.” He shook his head, disgusted.

Minhyuk was drained, mentally and physically. He lay curled on his side on Sanha’s bed, unable to bring himself to sit up, let alone look in Myungjun’s direction.

“Then what about my sister’s death?” Myungjun asked. He also sounded drained.

“Unless you think your parents were of some kind of strategic value to Songbird Senior Command as far as keeping their secret, I don’t think it was politically motivated,” Dongmin said. “I think whoever killed her was a genuine song-eater, and we will still do our best to find her.”

“We?” Myungjun asked. “Even Minhyuk?”

“It’s not like humans don’t chase other humans who are murderers,” Dongmin said. “And the information Minhyuk gave me - even if he didn’t tell the rest of you - has helped me refine my search. Sanha was on to something, when it came to serial killers and their comfort zones. If most song-eaters live like ordinary humans and think just like humans do, then the types of analyses we use on human killers should basically work on them. All we need are those police records and we can look for the killer’s comfort zone.”

Myungjun said nothing.

There was a knock at the door.

Jinwoo called out, “Come in.”

There was no response.

“Come in!” Jinwoo called, louder.

“The spell on the door,” Minhyuk said, pushing himself up. “Dongmin set it so only members of the team could come in and out freely.”

He whistled several notes, felt the spell vanish.

Bin held up his board. _“You whistle all the time.”_

Dongmin said, “There are many spells - to keep someone warm if they’re cold, help a mild fever. Not just door wards.”

“Come in!” Jinwoo said again.

Dr. Yoo entered the room - with everyone’s parents trailing behind them. Sanha’s brothers weren’t present this time, and Minhyuk’s mother was still by herself, but she was carrying a paper shopping bag that was bulging with plastic containers.

Homemade kimbap. Minhyuk managed a small but genuine smile.

Naturally, Dr. Yoo checked on Jinwoo first, had him lift his pajama shirt so she could check his wound while everyone else looked away politely and Minhyuk went back to his own bed. 

“How are you feeling? Did you rest well?”

“None of us slept well,” Jinwoo admitted, “but I am feeling much better.”

Dr. Yoo nodded sympathetically. “Try to rest for a few more hours, and we’ll see about discharging you then.”

She checked on Sanha, Bin, and Myungjun, leaving Dongmin and Minhyuk for last, as they had sustained the least amount of injury in the attack.

Manager slipped in behind Minhyuk’s mother, wearing a serious expression. He caught Jinwoo’s eye, and Jinwoo nodded.

“Since none of you had major surgery, you don’t have any dietary restrictions, so you can eat your mothers’ food,” Dr. Yoo said, heading for the door.

“I brought honey,” Sanha’s mother said, holding up a bottle.

“And I brought hot tea,” Bin’s mother added, waggling a thermos.

Dr. Yoo bade everyone farewell. Minhyuk sat up straighter, let his mother coddle him and lay food out for him. She had made him several varieties of kimbap, and when she handed him a pair of chopsticks, he pounced.

He was tired. So tired. And so hungry. And her food tasted so amazing. He’d missed her cooking so much.

He couldn’t help it. 

He started crying.

“Minhyukie, what’s wrong?” Eomma put her arm around him, reached out to wipe away his tears. “Does it not taste good?”

“It’s delicious,” he managed to stammer out between sobs. He was crying so hard he couldn’t breathe, but he was still hungry.

His mother pulled the curtain around his bed and climbed onto the bed beside him, held him tightly. She started to hum, his favorite lullaby from childhood. He burrowed into her embrace, crying. He wanted everything to just go away.

Everything except his mother and her food and her soft voice. She’d never been a good singer, but this melody was one she could sing unerringly.

Someone wrenched the curtain aside.

Dongmin’s mother stood at the foot of the bed.

Minhyuk’s mother straightened up, startled, her lullaby fading.

“Madam Cha?” she asked. “Is something the matter? I did bring enough kimbap for Minhyukie to share with the other boys after we leave.”

Commander Cha Eunsong of Songbird Senior Command stared at them. “Do you have Songbirds in your family?” she asked.

Minhyuk pawed at his face to clear his vision. He wasn’t aware of any Songbirds on his father’s side of the family, and certainly not his mother’s.

And then he realized. Yoona knew that lullaby, Yoona who’d been held hostage by Senior Command when she was a child.

Minhyuk’s mother said, “My aunt was a Songbird, but I don’t know much about her. She died when my mother was quite young, on a hunt gone wrong.” Her voice was steady and calm.

She wasn’t perfect, like Dongmin’s mother, but she was good enough to protect her son. And she had known, then, the truth of the history between Songbirds and song-sharers.

“After what happened to her, my grandmother forbade my mother from becoming a Songbird, and so I was never raised to aspire to that calling.”

Commander Cha stared at Minhyuk and his mother for a little longer than was polite, and finally she said, “I apologize. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

Minhyuk’s mother inclined her head graciously. “Of course.” She turned to Minhyuk, smoothing a hand over his hair. “Are you feeling better? Ready to eat some more?”

He nodded and sat up straighter. “Thank you, Eomma.”

“Your hair is so...pink.” Eomma laughed softly.

Minhyuk made a face and bit into another piece of kimbap, moaned happily. It was so good. “It looks weird when it’s not styled for a performance. After comeback promotions, I can go back to a more natural color.” Then he paused. Comeback promotions were over.

It would be at least a week before Sanha and Bin could talk, let alone sing.

And Myungjun - with his arm in that cast, he wouldn’t be able to perform in the musical. The one thing he’d cared about besides avenging his sister’s death - it was out of reach now.

Minhyuk sighed and set down his chopsticks. “I’m sorry, Eomma. I guess I’m not as hungry as I thought.”

She pressed a kiss to his hair. “Don’t worry. Everything will keep.”

Manager cleared his throat. “Once the boys are finished eating, I need to speak to them. Privately.”

The parents nodded.

Bin’s mother brought Minhyuk a mug full of hot honey tea even though his voice was intact, and he thanked her. She chatted with Minhyuk’s mother, the two of them recounting the moments from the team’s recent live stages that they’d particularly enjoyed.

When finally all the parents were assured that their sons had been well-fed, they showed themselves out. Dongmin’s mother invited everyone to a group lunch, which the others agreed to, but Minhyuk’s mother demurred, because she had the farthest to travel, and she needed to reassure her younger son and husband of Minhyuk’s welfare.

The door closed behind them.

Manager pulled up a chair beside Jinwoo’s bed and dug his tablet out of his book bag. “The company has issued a statement. Fans are receiving it well, though there is speculation that Eunwoo’s relationship with Yoona is real, given that antis were wiling to attack you over it.”

Dongmin made a face but said nothing.

He hadn’t touched any of the food his mother had brought, had pushed it aside as soon as she was out of the room.

Minhyuk offered him a container of kimbap.

Dongmin smiled faintly and accepted it, then dug in.

“There’s also this,” Manager said. He tapped his tablet, then held it up for them to see.

It was grainy CCTV footage. There was no sound, but - there was Dongmin, striding toward several armed men, a shining silver sword in each hand. He struck, and right as he struck, the footage cut off. “Someone leaked it. There’s only those few seconds, but -”

“It’s Songbird protocol, to disable all the CCTV footage within a certain radius, to maintain our identities,” Dongmin said.

Manager blinked. “You did that?”

“There’s a spell for just about everything.” Dongmin nibbled delicately at a piece of kimbap.

That spell, Minhyuk realized, would also prevent people from ever knowing if a Songbird let a song-eater live instead, just captured her and returned her to captivity. Were _any_ of the records in the ledgers accurate?

“You’ve been offered the lead role in an action drama,” Manager continued.

Jinwoo spluttered. “What?”

“Also people are very curious about the fact that you’re a Songbird - and a man,” Manager said. “Obviously the company wants to capitalize on it, but with how no one is supposed to know who Songbirds are, things are complicated.”

Dongmin said, “You’d have to check with someone from Senior Command.”

“Senior Command,” Manager echoed, looking a little stunned.

Dongmin said, “My mother is one of Senior Command.”

Manager blinked.

Jinwoo said, “Basically, he’s like a Songbird prince. His mother is from a very important Songbird clan.”

Manager looked back and forth between Dongmin and Jinwoo. “You just...talk to each other about these things?”

Jinwoo shrugged and kept on eating his porridge.

Sanha waved his whiteboard back and forth desperately. _“New cell phones?”_

“Ah, yes. Of course. Good thing you all have cell phone insurance.” Manager reached into his bag and handed one to Sanha, one to Bin, one to Jinwoo, and one to Myungjun. “They’re all charged. You’ll have to import your contacts and apps on your own.”

“What about comeback?” Minhyuk asked.

“The company is willing to call comeback over, at this point. You got a win. You did well. Obviously the concerts are going to have to be postponed. Eunwoo has been excused from shooting the next episode of his variety show, and Bin and Sanha are excused from their MC duties for two weeks. As for the musical -”

“It’s fine,” Myungjun said. “I know I have to withdraw, due to my injury. We’re early enough in rehearsals that they can find someone to replace me, or just promote an understudy.” His tone was flat, dead, his gaze empty.

“Of course, all of you will have access to the company counselors any time you need. You have the next week off, but for security purposes, the company wants you to stay in the dorm. They’re hiring extra security for the building, including another Songbird.” Manager continued to scroll through information on his tablet.

Dongmin said, “What about the men who attacked us? The one who blocked us from getting in the back door - he said his younger sister was a fan who was upset by the Yoona rumors. What information do the police have about them?”

Minhyuk added, “How many of them survived?”

“Three ran. Of those who stayed behind, just one.” Manager looked grim.

Dongmin set down his chopsticks and pressed his hand to his mouth.

“Best as police can tell, though, one man did have a younger sister who’s a fan - her mother confirmed it when she came to identify the body. The rest of the men were his friends from when he’d served in the army,” Manager said. “Obviously the police and prosecutors have decided that you were acting in self-defense.”

Dongmin nodded.

“Take time to rest, all right?” Manager said. “I’ll let you know more when we have more news.”

He patted Jinwoo on the shoulder, and then he left.

“Are you all right?” Jinwoo asked Dongmin.

Bin abandoned his food and crawled up onto Dongmin’s bed, sat beside him. Held him.

Minhyuk said, “Myungjun-hyung, if you want, I could try to heal you. So you can do the musical. I wouldn’t have to use human voices. It would take time, multiple sessions, but I could do it. If you wanted.”

Myungjun wouldn’t even look at him.

Dongmin shook his head. “No. How would we convince the doctors to remove his cast early anyway? And my mother’s already suspicious about you and your mother.”

Sanha waggled his phone.

Dongmin looked at his own phone, and so did Minhyuk, and - there. In the group chat. Sanha had sent a message.

_Why would Madam Cha be suspicious of Minhyuk’s mother?_

“My mother was singing me a traditional song-sharer lullaby,” Minhyuk said. “Commander Cha probably recognized it.”

“I’m sure she did.” Dongmin sighed. “I think I figured out where at least some of the song-sharers and their families are being held.”

“Where?” Minhyuk asked.

“My grandmother’s house. It functions sort of as Senior Command headquarters for the Cha Clan. I know she had some basements built, where she kept a lot of the expensive armor and weapons. It stands to reason that there are other lower levels there as well. My mother keeps an office there, to manage the running of the clan, so if she’s around the captives a lot, she probably hears them singing to their children.”

“I’m surprised they’re allowed to sing,” Minhyuk said. “Because we can take songs from each other as easily as humans. It wouldn’t be a big deal, for one of us to give our voice to another, to give her the strength to rise up - or at least get one of her children free.”

Was that how Yoona had escaped? Had another song-sharer given their life for her?

Jinwoo scrubbed a hand over his face. “For someone who’s worked very hard at convincing the entire world you’re a normal human, you’re very willing to just - die.”

Minhyuk shrugged. “Once people know what I am, what’s the point in living?”

His phone buzzed in his hand.

Bin had sent, _Don’t say that!_

“If people know what I am, it’s only a matter of time before Songbirds come for me - or, worse, my family. I’ve always been prepared to die to protect my family,” Minhyuk said.

Sanha was across the room and on Minhyuk’s bed in an instant, arms around him, shaking his head and mouthing _No_ over and over again.

“He’s not lying,” Dongmin said. “The night I confronted him about being a song-sharer, he nearly jumped off the balcony at our apartment - and almost stabbed himself with one of my knives. In the chest, too. That’s a difficult method of suicide. If you don’t aim right, you have to get through bone, and it’s - painful.”

“Well, I have good aim, and I can get through bone. I’m stronger than most,” Minhyuk said.

His phone buzzed again, more messages from Bin.

_Stop! Stop talking about it! No one is going to kill themselves. We’ll keep your secret. All of us. And we’ll help Myungjun find the actual song-eater who killed his sister._

Minhyuk said, “If you and Sanha like, I can heal you, so you can speak sooner.”

Sanha nodded vigorously.

Dongmin said, “That’s a more feasible option. Unless a hospital employs a physician who’s also a Songbird, not much is known about how song-eater wounds are inflicted, or how they heal.”

“Let’s finish our food, and get some real sleep, and we can go home,” Jinwoo said. “Minhyuk, give me some of your kimbap.”

Minhyuk opened one of the small containers that had a roll inside it already neatly sliced. “Here, hyung. Enjoy.”

* * *

Manager smuggled them out of the hospital and back to the dorm by having a hoarse-voiced Dongmin, wearing large sunglasses and a scarf, go out front as a decoy, flanked by their new bodyguard Seolwoo and new Songbird, Bora (who was Bomi’s twin sister). He gave a brief statement to the press: yes he was a trained Songbird, he did his best to defend his team from multiple attackers, and he had nothing further to say; please respect his teammates’ need for privacy during their recovery, and thank you for coming today.

Everyone else, wearing bulky hoodies and baggy jeans and masks, sneaked out to the van and headed straight for the dorm. There were some reporters waiting out front, but because the side entrance was still part of a crime scene - and still had uniformed police officers guarding it - they made it inside unscathed.

“All this sneaking and hurrying is exhausting.” Jinwoo sank down on the couch. “I’ll wash up last. The rest of you can go first.”

Minhyuk fetched a blanket from the bedroom and tucked it around him. “Do you want a drink or a snack?”

Jinwoo shook his head and closed his eyes. Maybe his pain meds were making him sleepy.

Sanha and Bin did rock paper scissors to decide who would shower first.

Minhyuk set about stowing the leftovers of the food their parents had given them.

Myungjun said, “I’m switching rooms with Dongmin.”

Minhyuk spun around and almost dropped the container of kimchi Jinwoo’s mother had brought.

Myungjun stared at him with that cold, flat gaze he’d worn since he’d returned from his fruitless meeting with Bomi. “Don’t look so surprised. Obviously it’s over between us. You lied to me and betrayed me.”

Minhyuk couldn’t deny that, bit his lip and said nothing.

“So I’m leaving you,” Myungjun said. “Not the team, obviously. But _you.”_

Minhyuk swallowed hard, then nodded. “Yes, you should. After all that I’ve done, you should.”

_Yes, go,_ he thought, because what else could he say? But what he wanted to say, more than anything, was, _No, don’t._

Myungjun stared at him for a moment longer, then spun on his heel and went into their bedroom, closed the door loudly behind him.

Minhyuk finished putting the food in the fridge, and then he stood in the empty kitchen, trying not to listen to the sounds of Myungjun packing his things. But he had supernatural hearing, and he could hear Myungjun _breathing_ if he focused too much, and -

He grabbed his phone and headed for the balcony, closed the sliding glass door behind him. With fumbling hands, he found a radio station, one that played canned jazz, and he fired it up. As soon as those first crystalline clarinet notes hit the air - Gershwin, Rhapsody in Blue - he inhaled, and faint light sparkled through his veins. He couldn’t cry like this, while he was being filled with light, even if it was flat and artificial. He closed his eyes and let the music move him. In moments like this, when everything was music, his blood and his breath and his body, he was perfectly serene. He _was._

Then the music’s volume dipped, wavered, and he stumbled. Oh no. Had he drunk too much? He grabbed his phone.

But it was just a message from Sanha in the group chat.

_Bin-hyung is done with his shower. Do you want to go next, or can I?_

Minhyuk typed back, _Go._

He shut off the radio and sank down to the floor. The warm steel of the railing was rigid and uncomfortable against his spine, but he didn’t care.

Someone opened the sliding glass door.

Minhyuk lifted his head. Bin stepped onto the balcony, his hair still damp. 

He looked at Minhyuk for a long moment, then sat beside him. He waggled his phone meaningfully, so Minhyuk picked his own phone up and unlocked it. Even though as a team they had a massive group chat, they all had their own side chats as well, that were used and discarded as needed.

Minhyuk and Bin’s chat was over a decade old, the first tentative threads of their friendship stored on some ancient server somewhere far away.

_Are you all right?_ Bin asked.

Minhyuk wasn’t sure he trusted himself to speak, so he tapped out a reply. _I’m fine. I was barely hurt. And I heal faster than humans anyway._

Bin nudged him and caught his gaze, expression knowing.

Minhyuk sighed and said, _I always knew he’d leave me, one way or another. I’ll be fine._

_That’s not what I asked._

_Of course I’m not fine. None of us are fine. Does your throat hurt much?_

Bin shook his head. _What do you mean, you always knew he’d leave you?_

Minhyuk closed his eyes and tipped his head back so he wouldn’t cry, even though he was pretty sure he had run out of tears at this point. “You know, my mother always hoped I’d never marry, or at least never have children, so I wouldn’t have to worry about a child carrying our curse.”

Bin tapped at his phone. _But you’re a song-sharer, not a song-eater. You’re not evil._

“We’re still cursed - to always lie to those we love, if we dare to love at all, to live our lives always looking over our shoulders, afraid of the women with the silver. And now the men, I suppose, though I think Dongmin, unlike me, is rare for being the male of his species.” Minhyuk laughed bitterly. “He thought I was the oddity, but the two-headed dog is him.”

Bin raised his eyebrows. _Two-headed dog?_

“Never mind. Long story. Just - Myungjunnie’s five years older than me. Why would he ever look twice at me? I waited, of course. Till I came of age. And then I was going to try. My mother was relieved when I told her I like boys. So I thought, why not? Myungjun’s beautiful, and he’s kind, and he’s funny, and he’s so smart. But then I found out about his older sister, and how could I even dare to try?”

Bin typed, _But you did try._

“I thought to myself, I’ll kiss him. Just once. Just so I know what it feels like, so I have no regrets. I didn’t think he would come to me after, kiss me again.”

_You could have told him no._

“I wanted to. I really did. But I thought, maybe, if I’m with him, if he tells me he loves me, I can pretend I’m not a monster for a little while, you know? Just a while.” Minhyuk sighed. “My mother worked so hard for me to be able to become an idol. She thought it would be the safest place for me: boy singer. If anyone even _suggested_ I was a song-eater, they’d be laughed out of the room. I think I always knew, though, that it was a bad idea. Deep down all of us know it’s a bad idea, trying to live as regular humans. That’s why we tell all our children to just die if someone gets too close to the truth.”

He shook his head. 

“I shouldn’t complain. At least I didn’t grow up in a cage in a dungeon, right?”

Bin put a hand on his arm. _You deserve to be loved._

Minhyuk shook his hand off. “No, I don’t. I don’t deserve to be loved. Not like that. I tried to tell him. I was as honest as I could be. But it doesn’t matter now anyway, because we’re over.” 

Bin sighed.

Minhyuk said, “You want me to heal you? It’d take me a really long time to gather enough energy to do much good, but it’s not like I’m doing anything better with my time. We wouldn’t have to tell Dr. Yoo or Manager, though. We could milk the time off for all it’s worth.”

Bin said, _How can you heal me, if no one can sing?_

He didn’t suggest asking Myungjun for help.

Minhyuk would never, ever ask that of him. He told Bin what he’d told Dongmin, about live instrumental music. 

Bin nodded, his expression cautious but curious.

“It would be better, if I could go out at night and see some street buskers or something, but Manager would never let me out alone. I think a couple of nights along the Han River, at the popular busking spots, and I’d have enough for you and Sanha and even Jinwoo.” Minhyuk turned to him. “I’m sorry it turned out this way.”

Bin shook his head. _Don’t be. Jinwoo-hyung is alive because of you._

“I’ll heal you as much I can with the music I can get,” Minhyuk said. He started to push himself to his feet.

Bin caught his wrist. Then he reached out, wrote on the back of Minhyuk’s hand with his fingertip. _I love you, little brother._

Minhyuk smiled sadly and shook his head, tugged his hand free. “You shouldn’t, hyung. No one should love me. I’m a liar and a monster. But I’m a monster who can heal you, so -”

Bin went to protest, and then Myungjun said,

“Dongmin is home. You should help him move his things.”

Minhyuk looked up at him, startled. He hadn’t even heard the door open. “Ah, yes. I will.”

Myungjun spun on his heel and walked away.

Bin stood up and dusted his pants off. _“I’ll help,”_ he mouthed.

Jinwoo was asleep on the couch. Sanha was toweling off his hair, standing in the kitchen and poking in the fridge for a snack.

Dongmin was standing at the shoe rack. He looked exhausted.

“Hyung,” Minhyuk said. “I heard you were generous enough to switch rooms with Myungjun-hyung. He already packed his stuff. Bin and I can help you move yours.”

Dongmin blinked, smothered a cough behind his hand.

Minhyuk said, “If you want, you can room with Bin-hyung again, like old times.”

Dongmin shook his head. “No. Myungjun-hyung will feel safer, if you’re in the same room as the team Songbird.”

Minhyuk flinched. “Right. Of course. What was I thinking?”

Bin tapped at his phone.

Dongmin looked at his phone. To Minhyuk, he said, “Go wash up. Bin and I will handle things.”

Minhyuk nodded and scurried into the bedroom. He did his best not to look at all the empty spaces where Myungjun’s belongings had been - his little Iron Man figurines, the pictures of his family, his collection of animal-shaped contact lens cases - but when he saw that the two beds had been pushed apart, he couldn’t breathe for a moment. Then he grabbed some clean clothes and went and locked himself in the bathroom for longer than was polite.

When he emerged, clean and feeling marginally better, Dongmin was all moved into the other half of the two-person room.

“Are you all right?” Dongmin asked. His voice was still hoarse.

“I should be the one asking that question. How’s your throat?”

Dongmin gestured to the mug of honey tea on his desk.

Minhyuk said, “So...I was thinking. About that song we’re writing together. I have some suggestions for some revisions to the lyrics.”

Dongmin raised his eyebrows.

“No one said that project was being scrapped. We can still release a song. It might make fans feel better, if we manage that.”

Dongmin nodded. “All right.”

“I can redo the guide track. It’s no big deal.”

“I look forward to hearing what you’ve got.”

“Also...do you think we could go out and listen to the street buskers? So I can heal Jinwoo and Sanha and Bin.”

Dongmin frowned thoughtfully. “I don’t know that Manager would allow that. He’d want us to have Seolwoo and Bora with us, but we can’t leave the others undefended, so…”

Minhyuk nodded. “Right. I’ll get what I can from the radio.” He grabbed his phone and his ear pods, and he set to collecting. 


	19. Chapter 19

Manager had - unbeknownst to the company - pulled strings so Nayoung could sneak into the dorm for a visit. She arrived with food, and she offered some to the others before she and Jinwoo retreated to the bedroom with a meal of their own. 

Minhyuk and Bin worked together to reheat food as necessary. Sanha set the table, arranging the dishes to maximize space. The fried chicken Nayoung had brought was the centerpiece, but they also had Minhyuk’s mother’s kimbap and Jinwoo’s mother’s kimchi and Bin’s mother’s army stew. 

Sanha set out the food Dongmin’s mother had sent. 

Dongmin took one look at it and said, “I’m not eating that.”

Sanha blinked at him. 

Myungjun said, “More for me,” and scooped up some of the grilled pork. 

Because Sanha and Bin couldn’t text and eat at the same time, there was little conversation. Myungjun wasn’t talking to anyone. Minhyuk watched him while he ate. Was he eating enough? He needed to eat well so he could recover. 

Myungjun said, without looking up from his food, “Stop staring.”

Minhyuk ducked his head and ate some more kimbap. 

Someone’s phone buzzed. 

They all paused and patted themselves down. It was Dongmin who was receiving a call. He looked at the caller ID, answered the call, and set his phone on the table. 

“Noona, it’s Dongmin. You’re on speaker so my team can hear you. Since we’re all in this now.”

“Dongmin-ah, Minhyuk-ah, how are you feeling?”

“I’m recovering well,” Dongmin said. 

“I’m fine, noona,” Minhyuk said. 

“Is everything all right on your end?” Dongmin asked. “How are Soohyang and Dohee?”

“They’re recovering well. We have access to alternative medicine,” Yoona said lightly. 

Minhyuk looked at Dongmin questioningly.

He shook his head and mouthed  _ later. _

“I have a proposal for you,” Yoona said. 

“Will people think we’re getting married?” Dongmin asked. 

Yoona laughed. “You’re wicked. All the news outlets talk about how sweet and polite you are, but you’re savage. I love it. No, I was thinking you should be at my coming-out party.”

“Your what now? Noona.” Minhyuk stared at the phone. 

“As a Songbird,” Yoona said. “Dongmin has gone public about it. Why not me too? It will explain away the rumors, and it will give you an advantage when we make more moves down the road.”

“How so?” Dongmin asked. “Once everything comes to light, I’ll likely be branded a criminal and imprisoned. You won’t want me on your side.”

Bin and Sanha stared at him, mouths open. 

“Dongmin, no.” Yoona sounded genuinely concerned. 

“For things to be made right, the old clans need to answer for what they’ve done,” Dongmin said, relentlessly reasonable. “My mother has always used me as her double-edged sword: the unwanted son who’s still a better Songbird than any firstborn girl from any other clan.”

Bin put his hand on Dongmin’s arm, brow furrowed. 

Dongmin continued. “For you and your faction to really be able to do what is right, you need a clean break from the old system. And that includes me.”

“Dongmin-ah.” Yoona sighed. 

“Besides, think how bad it will look for the old clans, me crying prettily on television and confessing and begging for punishment. If poor, pretty me, who had no clue what was going on, is willing to throw myself on my sword, what more does Senior Command deserve, that they lied to and manipulated the public and law enforcement for decades, if not centuries?” Dongmin nibbled on some kimchi. 

Yoona said nothing. Sanha and Bin looked horrified. 

Even Myungjun looked shocked, food forgotten. He twisted around to glance at the closed bedroom door where Jinwoo and Nayoung were oblivious to what was going on. Should he get Jinwoo?

Minhyuk said, “He does cry very prettily, noona. Some of my teammates, like Bin-hyung, look really ugly when they cry. If you need someone to cry on camera, Dongmin’s the best option.”

Bin reached across the table and smacked him on the arm.

A moment later, Minhyuk’s phone buzzed with a message from Bin.

_ Heal me right now because I have to yell at Dongmin and you for being idiots! _

Yoona said, “I’ll give your suggestion some thought. I admit, it does seem to have some strategic merit upon first consideration, but I need to think further on the issue. I feel terrible about it, but your intelligence always surprises me. Perhaps I bought into all that publicity about how emptily handsome you are. I apologize, Dongmin.”

“No need, noona. I have been very careful at maintaining my image since I first became a full-fledged Songbird,” Dongmin said. “But think about it - me, barefaced and with a shorn head, in a prison jumpsuit, decrying my elders. They won’t see it coming. If I stand with them, they’ll think I’m on their side, that you failed to turn me. Also it will have the side benefit of protecting my team. If I go to them, penitent for dabbling in rebellion, my team will be safe from further attack.”

“You make a fine point,” Yoona said. “I’ll get back to you. In the meantime -”

“Keep my head down and protect my team.”

“I always knew we’d get along, Dongmin-ah. Take care, Minhyuk-ah, and also protect your team. I wish the rest of your team a speedy recovery. Have a good evening,” Yoona said, and the call ended.

Bin tugged on Minhyuk’s sleeve sharply.

“I don’t have nearly enough music collected to heal you,” Minhyuk said.

Bin squeezed his wrist and mouthed,  _ Now! _

“Would you really go to prison?” Myungjun asked. “If - if everything you said is true, about what Songbird Senior Command is doing.”

“Well, if the national assembly changes the law so song-sharers are considered people with rights under the law, then yes. I’ve committed murder,” Dongmin said shortly.

Bin grabbed Minhyuk’s shoulder.  _ Please! _

“Dongmin, maybe you should think about this,” Myungjun began.

“As you heard, I’ve thought about this a lot,” Dongmin said.

Minhyuk tugged Bin toward him. “I can only give you a bit, okay? Just - calm down. Open your mouth.”

Bin nodded and opened his mouth like he was saying  _ ah _ at a doctor checkup.

Minhyuk huffed. “No, I don’t need to see the back of your throat. Come closer. Like we’re going to kiss.”

That made Bin hesitate.

“Yah, we won’t actually kiss,” Minhyuk said. “It’s like CPR.”

Bin nodded and leaned closer. Minhyuk leaned in to meet him.

_ “Yah!  _ What are you two doing?” Myungjun demanded.

Minhyuk pulled back. “He wanted me to heal his voice. I’ve been collecting music slowly for a while this afternoon.”

Myungjun looked startled and a little angry.

For a moment, Minhyuk was hopeful. Was Myungjun jealous of Minhyuk being this close to Bin?

Bin grabbed Minhyuk’s chin and tried to drag him close again.

Minhyuk managed to stop Bin before they knocked foreheads. “Breathe in when I squeeze your arm, okay?”

Bin nodded and parted his lips.

Minhyuk leaned in, squeezed Bin’s bicep, and exhaled music and energy.

Bin inhaled so hard he started coughing. Dongmin handed him a cup of water, and he drank, coughed some more.

But then he murmured, oh so faintly, “Thanks.”

Minhyuk’s phone buzzed with a message from Sanha.

_ Me next! _

“I’ll have to collect more energy,” Minhyuk said. “Without live singing voices, it’s a very slow, gradual process.”

Sanha nodded eagerly.

On the other side of the table, Myungjun’s expression was unreadable, his gaze dark.

Dongmin said, “Don’t forget, Minhyuk-ah, you’re supposed to do a broadcast for the fans soon.”

Minhyuk nodded. “Thanks for the reminder, hyung.”

Dongmin added, “I swear your mother’s kimbap has gotten better.”

Bin turned to Dongmin. “What’s wrong with you? Why do you keep talking like something horrible is going to happen to you? If you stop hunting innocent song-sharers, everything will be okay, right?”

“Maybe you should rest your voice still,” Myungjun said. “The doctor said -”

Bin put a hand on Dongmin’s arm. “Why do you talk about yourself like you’re disposable?”

“I am disposable. A Songbird is, first and foremost, a soldier. All my life I’ve been taught to be willing to die for a cause. That cause was a lie. Dismantling it has already cost lives and will cost more lives. For all the lives I’ve taken, I can make no amends. What’s a few years in prison?”

Bin sat back. He was pale, unhappy.

Dongmin said, “Minhyuk and I are two sides of the same coin - both raised to die for a cause, to lie about who we are, with the same magical blood in our veins. The world would celebrate his death and mourn mine, and the world would be very, very wrong.”

Sanha’s expression turned unhappy and drawn as well.

Myungjun said, “It’s different. You didn’t know what you were doing was wrong. Keeping silent and doing nothing when others of your kind are monstrous murderers -”

“We have police officers and detectives who hunt the murderous monsters of our kind while we sleep peacefully at night.” Dongmin met Myungjun’s gaze squarely.

Myungjun didn’t look away. A muscle twitched in his jaw.

The bedroom door opened, and Nayoung poked her head out. “Do you have any paper towels?”

Minhyuk jumped up and went to fetch a roll for her. She thanked him and vanished back into the bedroom.

Minhyuk resumed his seat at the table, and they finished the meal in heavy silence.

* * *

For the next week, the six of them were expected to rest and recuperate, to take it easy and let themselves heal. When they weren’t resting and napping and catching up on missed dramas or webtoons or playing video games, they were working on their research. Now that they knew real song-sharer lore and more about Songbird politics, it was harder to make any headway, because they had no clue which hunting ledger entries were legitimate, which were fabricated, or which were mistaken because younger Songbirds didn’t know Senior Command’s real agenda. 

Minhyuk always had live music streaming on his phone, softly in the background so the others could barely hear, siphoning off bits and pieces that he could give to Jinwoo, Sanha, Bin, and Dongmin. He kept the music low so the others wouldn’t hear it distort while he drank. Even though Minhyuk’s teammates had accepted that he was a song-sharer - excluding Myungjun, who avoided him as much as possible - they were still skittish whenever he whistled or they heard him drink a song or saw him do something inhumanly strong or fast. 

Manager came to check on them every day. They were under strict orders to keep their heads down and remain out of sight and follow the doctor’s orders to the letter. 

They obeyed. 

But Minhyuk, as the one member essentially unscathed in the attack, had to comfort the fans. 

As a trainee, and then as a rookie idol, Minhyuk had never been as comfortable in front of the camera as the others were. He wasn’t naturally cute and charming, and unless he was dancing or had the others with him, he felt awkward and exposed. Shy. Over time he’d grown more comfortable in his own skin and in the role the fans had for him, and he could do the occasional solo broadcast that didn’t involve cooking or dancing. 

He’d never had to do a broadcast like this.

He posted a message in the chat room for the broadcast channel, a quick greeting. The chat was flooded with comments from fans, asking who he was. As the team shared a single account, when any of them posted the fans didn’t know which of them it was unless they specifically told the fans who they were. Sometimes it was a bit of a game, teasing the fans, dropping clues so they’d guess who was going to broadcast that day.

Today Minhyuk didn’t mess around with them. He told them his name, that the rest of his teammates were resting and healing, and he’d start the broadcast in five minutes.

The truth was, his teammates were gathered in the den, Jinwoo sleeping on the couch, slumped on Myungjun’s shoulder while he pored over hunting ledgers. Dongmin was coordinating with Yoona’s Songbird contacts about getting police records for attacks on children in the area around where Myungsoon’s attack had occurred. Sanha and Bin were looking through Dongmin’s lore journals for any pieces of lore that might prove useful in future. After all, they’d found the truth about song-sharing in one of his journals. Maybe there was more.

Minhyuk arranged a small broadcasting space in his half of the bedroom. He made a comfy nest for himself on his bed - and made sure his bed was neatly made and all his dirty clothes were in the laundry basket. He straightened up his desk and made sure he had snacks and drinks to hand. He also had Dongmin’s little electric keyboard plugged in and nearby.

He smoothed down his clothes and hair, made sure his phone was propped up properly, and started the broadcast.

“Hello,” he said, waving at the camera. “Can you see me all right?” 

It was difficult to balance between looking into the camera versus reading the comments that came flying up the screen. Fans greeted him, and it was second nature to read some of the comments aloud, respond to them.

“I look well today? Thank you. I feel well. I’m very fortunate. I really wasn’t hurt at all. I should sit back more? Okay.” He scooted back a bit, smiled and waved again. “I know fans are still arriving, but I’ll get started.”

The team’s official greeting was a comforting ritual. It helped Minhyuk get into the headspace of being Rocky, of calling his teammates by their stage names. 

“Today I’m broadcasting from my room. I’m sitting on my bed. It’s very comfortable here.” Minhyuk patted one of the pillows and smiled. “I room with Eunwoo-hyung now. We recently rearranged the rooms.”

He could say it calmly, matter-of-factly.

“MJ-hyung has his own room now, since he’s the oldest. Bin-hyung, Jinjin-hyung, and Sanha-ya are all rooming together. Sanha’s in my old bunk, which was the top bunk. I’ve never roomed with Eunwoo-hyung before, so it’s different, but he’s very quiet and very neat, so it’s nice.”

He watched the comments fly by, most of them Korean, but some in other languages. He could recognize Thai, Chinese, Japanese, English, and Tagalog, although sometimes he mixed that up with Spanish. At first, trying to read any comments had been impossible, they zipped by so quickly, but somehow Minhyuk could do it now.

“The others are resting right now. Not necessarily sleeping, but relaxing. The doctor told us to relax. How are they doing? They’re doing well, all things considered.”

Even though Manager hadn’t given Minhyuk specific instructions about what he could and couldn’t say in the broadcast, he’d had plenty of media training as a trainee, and he’d learned more rules as time went on, the unspoken ones, about not giving too many spoilers (although sometimes accidents happened) or saying anything too personal. It was another delicate balancing act, being genuine and sincere with fans but also adhering to the basic code of conduct expected of all idols.

“Bin and Sanha will be fine. At the last checkup doctor said they’re recovering really well.” Minhyuk didn’t mention that both of them had more or less gotten their voices back and Sanha’s ankle was fully healed, since the company didn’t know that either. “Jinjin is healing well, too. He’s embarrassed because he has a big scar -” It wasn’t that big, because Minhyuk was healing him as well - “but that’s sexy, right? Manly. He got that scar while he was protecting Sanha. Nothing in the military will scare him now.”

Minhyuk realized his mistake when there was a flood of comments that was mostly crying emojis.

“Sorry! I won’t joke about Jinjin-hyung’s enlistment. It’s years away anyway.” Minhyuk scanned a few more comments. “MJ-hyung is healing as best as he can, but it will take a long time. We’re all really sad about the musical, but probably not as disappointed as he is.”

Myungjun refused to let Minhyuk heal him. Even if he had relented on the issue, Dongmin was right - no one would believe he’d healed from so severe an injury so quickly, and he wouldn’t be able to continue on with the musical anyway.

“Eunwoo-hyung? He was very brave. I didn’t see everything that happened.” Minhyuk looked away from the camera for a moment. “I can’t say much about it, because police and Songbirds are still investigating. How long have I known Eunwoo-hyung is a Songbird? I can’t really say much about that either. But - he’s always protected us.”

Minhyuk grabbed his water bottle and drank.

“I don’t want to take up too much time, because if Eunwoo-hyung wants a nap I need to leave, but I decided to sing something for you, before I go. I did a cover, recently, of a song from an OST of a drama all of us watched and enjoyed. I don’t know if many fans know this, but I learned to play piano when I was young. I’m not as good as Eunwoo-hyung, but I practiced this for you. So, this is Someday, the Boy, originally by Feel Kim.”

He pulled the keyboard onto his lap, turned it on, and tested the keys. “Is that loud enough? Can you hear all right?”

He drank some more water.

There was another flood of comments,  _ Good luck! _ And  _ You’re so talented! _

The piano riff was pretty simple, thankfully, and repetitive, and Minhyuk had practiced it a lot - not just in recent days for today’s broadcast, but as soon as he’d decided to learn the song and sing a cover. This song had resonated with him as soon as he’d heard it, and he’d wanted to sing it himself, because it said things he’d never been brave enough to really say for himself.

Myungjun had been so kind and generous with his time when Minhyuk came to him for help with singing this song. Minhyuk knew he had good power and range, and a decent mixed voice, but he pretty much only had a belt, so songs that demanded power and flexibility tended to be ones he was good at - which was how he’d been given some high notes and ad-libs as early as the team’s first album. When it came to songs that were slower, softer, more emotional, Myungjun was a master, sang with sadness and longing without sacrificing an ounce of the perfect honey-sweetness, crystal clarity of his voice. Minhyuk had wanted to give this song the emotion it deserved, and Myungjun had worked with him patiently.

Remembering late nights working together, heads bent close, voices twining, made Minhyuk’s heart ache. They’d fallen in love over this song, sharing intensity and passion, and Minhyuk had finally dared to kiss Myungjun, and now -

Now he was singing alone.

_ Time has since raised me _

_ And tells me to step into the world now. _

_ My past self would then ask me _

_ If I’m happy enough to deserve to smile now. _

_ Years from now, that child then, _

_ Would he have gotten all that he had ever dreamed of? _

He let the final note hang in the air before he ended the song, smiled at the camera and bowed and applauded a little.

The comments made him smile. 

“‘Oppa, you’re so talented.’ Ah, not as talented as Eunwoo-hyung and MJ-hyung, but thank you. I worked hard. I’m glad you liked it. Will I play piano more in future? I don’t know. Maybe for an acoustic set? We’ll see. Eunwoo-hyung’s much better at the piano than me, so. Can I play other songs on the piano?” He considered. “Apart from some of the classical songs I learned for lessons as a child? Not really. Well - Eunwoo-hyung and I have been working on this one song together. I can’t show you a lot, but…”

He tested a chord on the keys.

“I think we’ve settled on a melody, more or less - there might be modulations for the final chorus and things - but the lyrics are still in development, so don’t get too excited. Here’s the chorus.”

_ I love you so much  _

_ But if you say you’re leaving  _

_ I’ll say you should leave  _

_ Yes, go; no, don’t... _

With that he snatched his hands off the keys and grinned at the camera. “That’s all I can show you without there being too many spoilers. We’ve changed the lyrics for the chorus a lot, so I don’t even know what the song will be called.”

He was proud of himself, because he really wanted to cry, but he was maintaining a perfectly calm, even cheerful demeanor. Even if he never got to say the words to Myungjun ever again, he’d always be able to sing them.

_ I love you so much. But if you say you’re leaving, no; don’t. _

There was a knock at the door.

Minhyuk said, “It looks like my time is up. Eunwoo-hyung wants to sleep now, so I should wrap up. The others have been reading your messages on the fan cafe, and they’re really grateful for all your love and support. When we come back, we’ll be healthy and happy and safe. Keep yourselves safe too, all right?” He called out cheery farewells, and then he leaned in and shut off the camera.

Finally, he could breathe. It was done.

He hopped off the bed and pulled open the door.

“Hyung, I’m all finished, you can nap now if you like.”

Dongmin said, “So that’s the new chorus? I like it. It’s very bittersweet. Real, but bittersweet.”

“It’s honest,” Minhyuk said quietly.

Dongmin stepped into the room, closed the door behind him. 

Minhyuk said, “Let me clean up, and then I’ll leave you be. Go sit on the balcony and drink up some more music for the others. Thank you for letting me borrow your keyboard.”

“It’s fine,” Dongmin said. “You’re still in love with Myungjun-hyung?”

Minhyuk shrugged but avoided his gaze. “I’ve been in love with him since I was sixteen. I’m twenty-two now. I can’t just turn off my feelings.”

“Even though he hates you and called you a monster?”

“People have been calling me a monster to my face all my life. If I hated everyone who ever did that to me, well, who would I have?” Minhyuk gathered up the unopened snack packets and set them in a little basket to take back to the kitchen. He put his pillows and his plush toys back in their usual arrangement, and he propped the keyboard back up against the wall in the corner.

Dongmin perched on the edge of his own bed. He looked tired, not the same way Bin and Sanha and Jinwoo did, but tired all the same. He’d been carrying the emotional burden of his mother’s betrayal for far longer than the others had been bearing their wounds.

“I know what it’s like,” he said finally. “Being in love with someone you shouldn’t be in love with. But I was never brave enough to even try for a kiss, and now - now I suppose I’m going to get what’s coming to me, after all I’ve done, and it would be selfish of me to try something with someone and make them suffer as well.”

Minhyuk looked at him for a long time. Finally, he said, “I realize that coming from me this is terrible, but if he or she or they choose to suffer with you, at least respect their intelligence enough to let them make that choice.”

Dongmin said, “You don’t know what it’s like, growing up as a Songbird. It’s not about disrespecting someone’s intelligence. It’s about preventing the preventable. Some things shouldn’t be shared, if you can help it.”

Minhyuk considered, nodded. “All right.” He headed for the door. “Rest. Let me know if you need an energy boost.”

It was second nature, to turn on his phone and play some live music low and meander into the kitchen.

Jinwoo was napping on the sofa again. Sanha and Bin had fallen asleep on the loveseat, a couple of Dongmin’s lore journals open on their laps. Minhyuk covered Jinwoo with a blanket and tucked a pillow under his head. He closed Dongmin’s journals and set them on the coffee table, then tucked blankets around Sanha and Bin as well, gave them pillows.

Only Myungjun was still studying, cross-legged on the floor. It was unusual to see him so still and quiet. He’d been an honor student while in high school; was Minhyuk seeing the ghost of honor student Myungjun, who worked hard to please his parents, who learned to be loud and bright and energetic to cheer his parents up?

Minhyuk drifted into the kitchen and started a pot of rice; it could cook and would tide the others over while he made meat and vegetable side dishes. The food their mothers had made for them had run out yesterday. He fixed up a glass of warm honey tea and set it beside Myungjun’s elbow, then set about slicing meat and vegetables and mixing up marinades. He brought Myungjun a little plate of cookies. He set the vegetables and meat to marinating in the refrigerator, and then he drifted back toward Myungjun, brought him some napkins.

“I’m going to sit on the balcony,” he said quietly. “Let me know when the others wake up or have one of them come tell me when they want to eat.”

Myungjun spoke without looking up from one of Dongmin’s textbooks that was in Korean. “Why are you being like this? This won’t win me back.”

Minhyuk paused. Myungjun’s tone was cold, but at least Myungjun was talking to him. “Being like what? I apologize if I annoyed you.”

Myungjun waved a hand at the coffee table. “The snacks and drinks.”

“Oh.” Minhyuk cleared his throat. “I’m sorry. It’s just a habit. These are things I’ve always done…?”

“Things between us aren’t the same anymore,” Myungjun snapped.

Minhyuk shrugged. “You’ve always thought my kind are monsters and we’re not together. It’s not much different from how our relationship has been most of the time we’ve known each other.” He started for the balcony door.

“Most of the time we weren’t in love with each other.”

“I was in love with you; you just didn’t know it.”

Myungjun stared at him. “Did you really love me?”

“Are you asking because you think my past dishonesty negates my love or because you think my kind are incapable of love?”

Myungjun didn’t answer.

Minhyuk headed for the balcony.

When he looked over his shoulder, Myungjun was nibbling on the cookies absently, expression pensive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rocky's cover of [Someday, the Boy](https://soundcloud.com/rockycl0ud/cover-by-rocky) on Soundcloud. Go check it out. Usually Rocky hits those high belts on R&B covers and here he really went for the soft, emotional sound, and he did a great job.
> 
> The guide version of [No, Don't](https://soundcloud.com/rockycl0ud/no-i-dont-guide-ver-by-rocky) by Rocky on Soundcloud. I haven't seen a translation of the lyrics but they're definitely different from the official version.
> 
> Also I read...somewhere? That at least when Rocky was little he could play piano, so...there you go.


	20. Chapter 20

Whenever Minhyuk saw the secondary male leads in dramas be persistently nice to the women they were in love with, women who the audience knew would never love them back, their kind gestures seemed pathetic at best, manipulative and demanding at worst. For the first time, Minhyuk properly appreciated that loving someone unconditionally meant being kind to them even without hope or desire for reciprocation, simply because making their life easier and happy was worth the effort. Sometimes those gestures of affection became burdensome to leading ladies, but as long as the secondary male lead wasn’t overstepping his bounds, the kind things he did weren’t so pathetic. 

Minhyuk continued to do his best to take care of his teammates, including Myungjun. While he and Myungjun never spoke unless absolutely necessary - and he was careful to make sure Myungjun wasn’t in the room when he offered a dose of healing to one of the others - Myungjun never confronted him about the little things he did, like handing out snacks and drinks during study time, or bringing blankets during TV time.

The others did continue to study - and deceive Manager about how they were healing up. At their one week check-ups, the doctor was impressed that Bin, Sanha, and Dongmin’s voices had healed as fast as they did, but Sanha played up his sprained ankle, and Myungjun’s arm was still out of commission.

But once their one week of recovery was up, Sanha and Bin had to return to their MC duties, and Dongmin had to return to his variety show duties. Yoona hadn’t spoken to them about what to do about Dongmin’s identity as a Songbird being made public, and Minhyuk was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

On the day Myungjun was called into the company to speak to the directors of the musical, he was anxious and unhappy, and Minhyuk felt terribly guilty. While he was out, only Minhyuk and Jinwoo were left in the dorm.

“We should make dinner,” Minhyuk said, rolling up his sleeves and grabbing a notebook to make a shopping list.

“For Myungjun?” Jinwoo raised his eyebrows.

He’d gotten his stitches out, and the doctor had been pleased at how well his wound was healing. Now that he didn’t need any further checkups, Minhyuk could heal him completely. Maybe it was because Minhyuk had saved Jinwoo’s life; maybe it was because he hadn’t been lucid during the practical demonstration of Minhyuk’s song-sharer powers, but he was the least bothered by the fact that Minhyuk was a song-sharer, so when it was just the two of them, Minhyuk could turn music up and drink to his heart’s content.

“For everyone,” Minhyuk said. “It’s their first day back at work. They’ll be tired and hungry. Or were you planning on going to see Nayoung?”

Bora had accompanied Bin, Sanha, and Myungjun to the company, and once Myungjun was safely installed there, continued on to the broadcasting station with Bin and Sanha. Where Dongmin was a Songbird but had still been targeted by regular humans due to the Yoona scandal, Seolwoo had accompanied him to filming. Bomi was patrolling the apartment building in Bora’s place.

Jinwoo shook his head. “No. Bomi would have to go with me, and then so would you, because you can’t stay here alone.”

“Bomi knows I’m a song-sharer. I can take care of myself.”

“The company doesn’t know that, and Manager would lose his mind if he found out I went to see my girlfriend on the sly and took the Songbird with me and left you unguarded,” Jinwoo said.

Jinwoo was right. Minhyuk frowned.

“Do you think Bomi will go to the corner store with us? Nayoung could come over here again, in the alternative. You could come to the store with me and Bomi - you’d have to help me carry the groceries because Bomi needs her hands free - and then Nayoung could come over and I could go hang out in my room, work on mine and Dongmin’s song a bit more.”

“We should study more,” Jinwoo said. “To help find Myungjun’s little sister’s killer.”

“True,” Minhyuk said. “I guess...we could order in? Text the others and find out what they’d want to eat tonight. I’ll get us some study snacks.”

Once they had some crackers and rice puffs and drinks and had made a comfy nest on the couch, the coffee table pulled close so they could reach their treats and textbooks and lore journals as necessary, they settled in.

“I hope we get those police reports soon,” Jinwoo said. “I think we’re at a dead end without them. There’s no reason for Songbird Senior Command to target a little girl like Myungsoon, so her killer had to have been an actual song-eater. As much as Senior Command is sort of movie-level villainous, regular Songbirds like Dongmin and Soohyang-ssi and Dohee-ssi were doing their best to track actual song-eaters, right? Especially since regular police officers have no real hope of succeeding against them.”

Minhyuk nodded. “Yeah. I mean, Myungjun has song-sharer blood, but he doesn’t have any Songbirds in his family, at least not closely-related enough that they could be dragged into Songbird politics as leverage or pawns or anything.”

Jinwoo hummed his agreement, flipping through one of Dongmin’s newer lore journals. It was mind-boggling, that Dongmin had been able to maintain this double life even though he had multiple jobs - he was a singer, a dancer, an actor, a model, and a television personality.

Minhyuk inhaled a particularly sweet piano glissando and smiled. There was something pleasant about collecting and storing energy. It wasn’t just being able to freely taste music; the energy gathered and buzzed under his skin. The legend about all song-eaters being beautiful persisted for a reason. Because Minhyuk had never gathered large quantities of energy before, he’d never witnessed it, but when he held large amounts of energy, he - glowed. His eyes were brighter, his skin clearer, his hair soft and shiny. It was kind of uncanny. That was one way Songbirds spotted song-sharers and song-eaters who’d recently fed.

“I’ll have enough energy to give you another dose soon,” Minhyuk said. “Maybe one more song.”

“Thanks.” Jinwoo glanced at him. “So - with multiple human voices, you brought me back from the brink of death.”

“Yes.”

“What’s to stop you from, I don’t know, curing cancer or something?”

“Nothing,” Minhyuk said. “Why?”

“Really?”

Minhyuk nodded. “I sang for my mother every night for a week when I was seven so she could cure my grandmother’s cancer.”

Jinwoo sat up straighter. “Wow. Why don’t your kind do that for money?”

“People are terrified of us. Would they donate their voices? Pretty sure if it hadn’t been an emergency, Sanha and Bin would have summoned a Songbird on me,” Minhyuk said. “Also that’s something Songbird Senior Command sells. They keep some song-sharers on hand and offer immortality or otherwise impossible healing for exorbitant prices.”

“That’s - really terrible, but not surprising.” Jinwoo frowned. Then he said, “Wait. Myungjun’s mother had cancer when he was really little. Remember? She couldn’t come to our last concert because she was in the hospital undergoing a minor biopsy. Myungjun said his family struggled while he was growing up, because her treatment was so expensive, but she was cured even though that form of cancer was basically a death sentence.”

Minhyuk nodded. “That’s one of the reasons Myungjun is so bright and cheerful. He was always trying to cheer his mother up. Myungsoon died while his mother was in the hospital, and even though she was cured soon after, their family was never really able to celebrate her recovery.” 

The first time Myungjun had mentioned that part of his childhood was the night he’d stumbled home drunk and curled up with Minhyuk in the den of their very first dorm, the one with no beds. It had been hard to imagine Myungjun small and shy and quiet, but it was easy to see how he’d channeled his love for his mother and his desire to be a comfort to her into becoming bright and sweet to cheer her up. Myungjun hadn’t mentioned his sister or her death, just that his mother had been ill, and his personality had changed over time in his efforts to comfort and distract her.

Jinwoo’s gaze was distant while he thought. “What if Myungjun’s parents paid Songbird Senior Command for a cure? It would be expensive.”

“More expensive than his parents could afford, surely,” Minhyuk said slowly, unease whispering in his blood. 

“Do we know how much it is?” Jinwoo asked.

“No, but Dongmin made it seem like only really rich, powerful people could afford it - and because they had so much to lose politically if what they did was revealed, they’d keep the secret. He sort of implied that Songbird Senior Command is as powerful as it is because they have blackmail on important government officials.” Minhyuk reached for Dongmin’s most recent lore journal. Did he have any additional notes on Senior Command politics? It wasn’t like Yoona only spoke to him when Minhyuk could listen in.

Only Dongmin hadn’t updated the journal since the last time he’d sat down with Minhyuk for a lore update the day Soohyang and Dohee were attacked.

Jinwoo sighed. “If only we had those police records.” He scooped up the team’s collective journal, where they’d pooled all their resources. 

Sanha had done extensive research into calculating a killer’s comfort zone so they could narrow down where the song-eater might live. Except it had been two decades since Myungsoon’s death, and if that song-eater was adept at living among humans and keeping her head down, she could well have moved on - a new job, or a promotion, or maybe she was down on her luck and got evicted.

Minhyuk scooped up his own phone and considered sending a message to Yoona, asking about help with those police records. But had Dongmin been working with Yoona directly about those, or someone else?

Even if Yoona didn’t know what was going on with the police records, there were probably other things she knew.

Minhyuk called her. If she didn’t answer, he’d leave a voicemail. 

But she did answer. “Minhyuk-ah, how is my precious little cousin?”

“Cousin?” he echoed, startled. 

“We’re related,” she said airily. 

“Ah - yes, noona. You’re right. Is this a bad time?”

“Not at all. We’re taking a break in shooting.”

“I’m glad I didn’t interrupt. Listen, I have a question about this research project my teammates and I have been doing.”

“Of course. Let me step outside for some privacy.” Yoona’s tone was polite and professional, cautious. 

Minhyuk said, “I’m going to put you on speaker so Jinwoo-hyung can hear as well, since we’re alone in the dorm. We’re researching together and I would rather not risk repeating what you tell me and recounting it inaccurately.”

He set his phone down on the coffee table. 

Jinwoo leaned in. 

“Not a problem. So, what’s going on? The ledgers are almost useless, aren’t they?” Yoona sounded more comfortable now. 

“They are. We can’t tell what was a real hunt and what was a cover-up.”

“Which is why we need the real ledgers from Senior Command.” Yoona sighed. 

Dongmin was working on it. Minhyuk wasn’t sure how, but he was looking much more pale and stressed out than Manager liked. 

“We were wondering - could an ordinary person buy, say, a cure for cancer? Or would it be too expensive?”

Yoona said, “As long as someone can pay the money, they can receive the service they desire. Whether they’re willing to pay the total cost is another matter.”

“Total cost, sunbaenim?” Jinwoo asked. 

“Silence,” Yoona said. “Customers pay for healing and assassinations. Songbird Senior Command buys their silence. Most people don’t properly appreciate just what they’re buying, and when they see the source of the services they are understandably alarmed. But even if they no longer wish to go forward with services, they must still remain silent about the source. So.”

Jinwoo raised his eyebrows at Minhyuk. “Say a middle-class woman wants her otherwise incurable cancer cured. Would Senior Command go as far as murdering her eight-year-old daughter as a warning about what would happen if she told anyone about the captive song-sharers?”

Yoona made a thoughtful humming noise. She wasn’t even shocked at the suggestion. She must have been utterly desensitized to the horrors committed by Senior Command.

“No, that’s not a very secure solution. The woman would be angered and have even more incentive to tell someone about what happened to get justice or revenge for her murdered child,” she said. 

Jinwoo looked relieved. 

Yoona continued, “No, it’s more likely that the song-sharer who healed her fed on her daughter to effectuate the healing. That way the woman is complicit in her child’s death and is more likely to keep silent.”

Jinwoo’s mouth fell open. 

Minhyuk’s stomach turned. “You really think they would do something like that?”

Yoona said, gently, “Cousin, I don’t know if your mother protected you well or raised you to be unwisely naive, that you are so unaware of the true horrors that await you if your true identity is discovered by Senior Command.”

Jinwoo looked at Minhyuk. 

Minhyuk shook his head. “Ah, thank you for that information, noona. I’m sure it will help us with our research. Good luck filming your drama.”

“I’m sorry I don’t have better news for you.” Yoona sounded genuinely regretful. “Take care, Minhyuk-ah.”

“You too, noona.” Minhyuk ended the call and knelt beside Jinwoo. “Are you all right?”

Jinwoo nodded, took several deep breaths, shook his head. “How can she just -? She didn’t even sound upset.”

“She’s a talented actress,” Minhyuk said. 

“No one’s that good.”

“And maybe, after all the horrible things she’s seen, she’s a little numb.”

Jinwoo’s expression darkened. “Do you think Dongmin’s numb too? He said he’s killed a lot of song-eaters. Even if he thought they were monsters - they looked just like regular humans, if not supernaturally beautiful. That had to affect him.”

“I think it did, even before he found out that most of them weren’t monsters.” Minhyuk sat back on his haunches. “Assuming what Yoona said is true, how do we know that’s what happened to Myungjun’s sister?”

“We don’t, not without the ledgers from Senior Command.” Jinwoo dragged a hand through his hair. “This is so frustrating!”

“We have to find Myungsoon’s killer,” Minhyuk said. “Even if her killer is already dead, we have to find out. For Myungjun.”

Jinwoo nodded. “Yeah. Let’s - I’ll just make a note of what Yoona-sunbaenim told us, and we can talk to Dongmin about it. Maybe he has a way to find out.”

“Would an alternative method be hospital records?” Minhyuk asked. “Would we be able to see who visited Myungjun’s mother when she was sick? Or maybe even after?”

“Would a Songbird even log their visit if they were up to something suspicious?”

“Maybe not before.” Minhyuk thought rapidly. “But after. To discuss the death of her daughter. It would have to be someone from Senior Command, right? Because only Senior Command know.”

“That makes sense.” Jinwoo lit up. “We’ll ask Myungjun which hospital his mother was at.” 

“If he even remembers. He was only five.”

Jinwoo sighed again. “Detectives in dramas always make it look easy, tracking down a decades-old killer.”

“We should pursue both angles. Try the hospital angle, but continue with the serial killer angle.” Minhyuk scribbled a note in his own research notebook, the one he used to take notes before he added more organized summaries to the team research journal.

“All right. We’ll discuss it with Dongmin when he gets home.” Jinwoo yawned and stretched, then winced, one hand at his side. “I want a nap. And food. Let me text the others and find out what kind of food they want.”

“I’ll text them. You nap.” Minhyuk closed the journals and stacked them, then carried them over to the improvised bookshelf where the rest of the journals and textbooks were.

Jinwoo nodded and climbed up onto the sofa, tugged a blanket up over his legs. “Get me a pillow?”

“Of course, hyung.” Minhyuk headed into the bedroom and snagged one of the pillows off of Jinwoo’s bed. Jinwoo always took such good care of all of them, and he deserved to have them take care of him in return.

“Hey, is it time for my next dose? You look all air-brushed and perfect, like a photograph of yourself.” Jinwoo spoke even slower than usual, drowsy.

Minhyuk paused for a self-assessment. Energy buzzed under his skin. In the space of a week, he’d become accustomed to it. That was dangerous. He was becoming dangerously complacent. He should have shared the energy with Jinwoo as soon as he had enough for a meaningful dose.

“Yeah, it’s time.”

Jinwoo started to push himself up.

“No, stay there.” Minhyuk knelt beside the sofa and leaned in. “Think of it like one of those silly paper pass games or pepero games or whatever.”

Jinwoo shrugged. “I’m not afraid.”

“Of me being a song-sharer, or kissing a boy?”

“Do you remember the chocolate kiss game we did for that one show where they also made fun of Dongmin’s dancing?”

“Sanha screamed in my ear a lot.”

“Neither Myungjun nor I screamed,” Jinwoo said.

Minhyuk frowned. “But...you’re dating Nayoung.”

“Doesn’t mean I haven’t ever liked boys.”

Minhyuk sat back. “Does Nayoung know?”

Jinwoo huffed in amusement. “If the right boy came along, she’d want pictures of me kissing him.”

Minhyuk made a face. “This is revenge for the time you walked in on me and Myungjunnie, isn’t it?”

“Maybe a little,” Jinwoo admitted.

“So mean, hyung.” But Minhyuk leaned in again. “Ready? Breathe in when I tap you.”

Jinwoo nodded and parted his lips.

Minhyuk gathered all the energy in his core, leaned in closer, and tapped Jinwoo on the arm. He had to exhale in a slow, steady stream, and Jinwoo had to inhale slow and deep as well.

The sound of someone inputting the door code sent Minhyuk scrambling backward. Bomi knew he was a song-sharer but Seolwoo didn’t, and Seolwoo had the door code too.

“What?” Jinwoo protested.

The front door opened, and Myungjun spilled into the foyer, kicking off his shoes.

Myungjun paused halfway into his house slippers, eyes narrowed at them. “What’s going on here?”

“Minhyuk was about to give me another dose of healing,” Jinwoo said. He tugged on Minhyuk’s sleeve.

The door fell shut.

Minhyuk could still feel Myungjun’s eyes on him as he leaned over Jinwoo. “Breathe in when I tap,” he said again, and Jinwoo nodded.

After the exchange was made, Minhyuk tucked the blanket around Jinwoo and stood. He turned to Myungjun.

“I was about to text the others and find out what they want to order in for dinner. What do you want?”

“Whatever is fine. I’ll be in my room.” Myungjun scooped up several of Dongmin’s journals, the team’s collective journal, and closed his door behind him.

Minhyuk sighed.

“I’m sorry,” Jinwoo said sleepily.

“Don’t be. I did this to myself. Rest. I’ll take care of everything.” Minhyuk scooped up his phone and messaged the others.

* * *

Dongmin was the last to arrive home, worn out from shooting for his variety show. Even though he was completely physically healed, the stress from everything else was taking its toll. His face was pale, and every line of his body was dragging toward the ground.

“Anything we can do to help?” Jinwoo asked as they sat around the table, sharing barbecue pork and grilled beef and a bunch of side dishes.

Myungjun had excused himself from the meal on account of further research and taken a portion of food into his room - not nearly enough, in Minhyuk’s estimation - and closed the door behind him.

“If you could rewrite my childhood so I never became a Songbird, that would be great.” Dongmin picked at his rice.

Bin squeezed his shoulder gently.

“Commander Cha and the rest of Senior Command have decided to make Songbirds more transparent, for the public,” Dongmin said. “And to offer Songbird training more widely, sort of like self-defense classes. Boys included.”

“It’s a preemptive strike, isn’t it?” Sanha said. “Against Yoona’s faction. If Senior Command becomes friendly to the public, people will trust them more than Yoona’s faction if she comes forward and makes accusations.”

Dongmin nodded. “I’ve already told Yoona about it, so she can make her move. But…”

“But?” Bin asked.

“I don’t know how much longer I can do this. Pretend to be a good son, a dutiful Songbird. I -” Dongmin scrubbed a hand over his face.

“We’re here to help you,” Jinwoo said gently. “All of us.”

Sanha made a thoughtful noise. “What if we were your guinea pigs? I mean, you’ve been training us in defense against song-eaters already. We were recently attacked.”

Bin shivered.

Sanha continued. “If anyone would want to jump on the bandwagon as far as getting actual Songbird training, it would be us, especially since Minhyuk-hyung and I already have some martial arts training.”

“I don’t have any magic, though,” Jinwoo said.

“You could make that your project, though, right?” Sanha said to Dongmin. “After all, boys are supposed to be less capable as Songbirds for some reason. If you could overcome those difficulties, you could help people without magic do the same, right? Plus you’re one of the best Songbirds ever, in terms of technical skill. You could teach us the fighting, if not how to use the weapons. Something is better than nothing for other regular humans who have no magic.”

Bin glanced at the closed bedroom door. “Do you think Myungjun would be on board with that? It would look really odd, if all of us weren’t in on it.”

“Let me talk to Yoona and see what she thinks. Trying to work all this out is like trying to play three chess games at once, and it’s giving me a headache.” Dongmin leaned his elbows on the table and buried his face in his hands.

“Let’s just enjoy this meal as best as we can and leave everything else till later,” Jinwoo said, and he patted Dongmin’s shoulder.

After supper, Minhyuk washed up. It was Sanha who came to help him.

“Hyung,” he said, hesitant.

Minhyuk turned to him. “Are you feeling all right? Do you need any more healing?”

Sanha shook his head. “No, my ankle and voice are fine. Are  _ you _ feeling all right?”

“Me? I wasn’t injured. I’m totally fine. And I’ve been able to really  _ have _ music, so that’s been nice. I shouldn’t get too used to it, though. Could be dangerous, if I’m not careful.” Minhyuk resumed scrubbing the chopsticks.

“I mean - about Myungjun-hyung. I know he’s my best friend on the team, but you’re my second-best friend.”

“Ah...I’m fine. I suppose I always knew it wouldn’t last between us. Even if he never found out what I am, I always felt so guilty about lying to him especially, because of what happened to his sister, and I think it would have ruined us eventually.” Minhyuk shrugged.

“Hyung, that’s awful.”

“I’ve always wondered how my mother and father have lasted this long,” Minhyuk said. “But that’s life, I guess. I want to stay by his side forever, and I really would do anything for him to make him happy, but I will always make him sad just by being what I am, and he has his choice, and he doesn’t want me, so I have to respect that.”

“I’m sure you’ll find someone else one day.” Sanha smiled hopefully down at him.

“Maybe. I’m not sure I’ll ever want anyone else, because Myungjun is perfect to me, but...maybe.” Minhyuk smiled back.

Once he and Sanha had finished washing the dishes and cleaning the kitchen and the table, they gathered with the others in the den.

“So we talked to Yoona-sunbaenim today,” Jinwoo said. “We were researching while you were gone.”

“What did she say?” Bin asked.

Dongmin sighed and closed his eyes. Bin immediately moved to rub his shoulders.

Jinwoo looked at Minhyuk. “You want to tell it?”

“We both heard it,” Minhyuk said.

“Just...say it.” Dongmin sounded exhausted.

Jinwoo cleared his throat and recounted what Yoona had told them about how Senior Command made sure people who learned their secret stayed silent. Sanha and Bin looked horrified. Dongmin just looked pained. Minhyuk explained that hospital records might be a new angle. Myungjun’s mother, who was very ill, probably wouldn’t have been allowed to have a lot of visitors, so visitors were probably closely monitored.

“Someone could have altered the records after, though,” Dongmin said. “That’s what I’d do.”

“We’re beating our heads against a brick wall, aren’t we?” Bin said.

“We have to keep trying,” Minhyuk insisted. “For Myungjun-hyung.”

Sanha nodded. “For hyung.”

“And now,” Jinwoo said, “let’s do something else. We should watch a drama.”

“We should watch Bin’s web drama,” Sanha said, lighting up.

“We should  _ not,” _ Bin said.

“We could watch one of Dongmin’s dramas,” Minhyuk said, perking up a bit.

“We also should not,” Dongmin said, his cheeks turning pink.

But Bin was already scrambling to connect one of the laptops to the television. “Do we want to watch Gangnam Beauty, Rookie Historian, Top Management, The Best Hit, or Revenge Note?”

“My Some Romantic Recipe,” Jinwoo said.

Dongmin groaned. “Hyung, no.”

“We could watch Gangnam Beauty. We wouldn’t even have to watch the entire thing,” Bin said, firing up YouTube. “We can just watch the key summaries. Two episodes summarized in a twenty-minute video. Eight videos for the whole show. It’ll be like a movie.”

Dongmin buried his face in one of the sofa throw pillows. “You’re all the worst.”

“It’s not just about you,” Jinwoo said lightly. “Your costar was beautiful. Now let us watch.”

“And also tell us all kinds of behind-the-scenes gossip,” Sanha added.

Bin wedged himself onto the sofa between Dongmin and Jinwoo and unfurled a blanket over himself and Dongmin. Jinwoo rolled his eyes, and Minhyuk handed him a blanket. Sanha crawled up onto the loveseat beside Minhyuk with a blanket to share, and the video began.

Minhyuk settled in beside him, grateful for his warmth, and did his best to focus on the drama.

“Oh hey, I recognize her,” Jinwoo said of one of the secondary characters. “She went to the same high school as us.”

“She was on Golden Bell with us,” Dongmin said. “She sat next to me.”

“Wow, the actor who played middle school you was well-cast,” Sanha said.

“That girl is  _ evil,” _ Bin said when the villain started to show her true colors. “And no wonder. She has the same name as my sister.”

“She is a pretty good villain,” Dongmin said. “I thought her character arc was nuanced and interesting. Also she’s actually very nice, the actress.”

How nice it would be, Minhyuk thought, to live in a world where the most evil person he encountered was someone jealous about someone else’s good looks.

“Here it is! The famous cider scene.” Sanha cackled, amused.

“I like how they never show her face, when she’s younger, before the surgery,” Minhyuk said of the leading lady. “That way they’re not making a statement about whether or not she was actually ugly - especially because kids will sometimes pick on someone who isn’t actually ugly.”

Dongmin said, almost absently, “My mother has always told me I’m ugly.”

“Just to keep you humble, though, right?” Jinwoo said.

“Because I’m not the beautiful daughter she always wanted.”

“Your mother always seems so nice,” Sanha said in a small voice. 

“People think I’m nice, and I cut women’s tongues out,” Dongmin said flatly.

Bin stared at him. He turned to Jinwoo. “Let’s get drunk. Can we get drunk? I want to get drunk. I think Dongmin needs to get drunk.”

“What’s this about getting drunk?”

Minhyuk turned. 

Myungjun leaned in the bedroom doorway. He was pale, exhausted. Even his neon pink cast didn’t seem so bright. 

“I want to get drunk too,” Myungjun said. 

Minhyuk bit back a protest. Only Bin and Dongmin had any kind of alcohol tolerance. 

“I’m not taking pain meds anymore. It’ll be fine.” Myungjun drifted into the den and plopped down in the armchair beside Jinwoo. 

“If you all are going to drink, I’ll just go to bed.” Minhyuk disentangled himself from Sanha and pushed himself to his feet. He didn’t miss the way Myungjun turned away from him. 

“All right. Good night,” Bin said. 

“We don’t have any drinks, though,” Sanha said. “We need to go get drinks. Lots of drinks.”

Dongmin said, “Minhyukie, go with me to get drinks. We can leave Bora with the others. Between me and Seolwoo, you should be just fine.”

“Right. Because the one who needs protection is me,” Minhyuk drawled. “But sure. I’ll help you get drinks.”

He and Dongmin grabbed caps and hoodies from their room, then went to put on their shoes while Dongmin texted Bora and Seolwoo about their plan. 

Minhyuk made sure his pink hair was covered well before they opened the front door. Minhyuk whistled a basic warding spell for the door before they set off. 

In the elevator, Dongmin said, “Did any of us really want to be idols? Bin became a trainee because his mother told him too. Myungjun wanted to avenge his sister. Your mom wanted you to not be murdered by someone like me, and I…”

“I thought you wanted to become an actor. Turns out you’re one of the best actors in the world,” Minhyuk said quietly. 

“How will we go on after this?” Dongmin asked. “As a team?”

The elevator doors slid open. 

Minhyuk pondered. He said, “Jinwoo and Sanha. This was their dream. They trained sincerely. And I think Bin wants this career sincerely now. Not at first, when we were young trainees, but once we got on stage and he felt that rush, sharing energy with the audience, I think this is his dream and his chosen career now. Myungjunnie always wanted to be in a musical. I sincerely love dancing and singing and even being a rapper. What about you?”

Minhyuk felt another stab of guilt at the thought of Myungjun’s lifelong dream snatched away from him. He was talented and determined, though. He would get another chance. 

Bora nodded to them and headed inside to guard the dorm directly. Seolwoo, tall and handsome and overdressed in his black suit and tie, fell into step beside them. 

“I like learning new things and having new experiences. I’ve learned to dance and sing and act and many other things. I’m grateful for that.” Dongmin hummed thoughtfully, hands in his pockets. “I want to help people, though. That was why I decided to train as a Songbird. Maybe I’ll become a lawyer after all. I can help people that way. But I won’t have to kill anyone. I’m tired of killing people. I hope I’m something boring like a clerk when I enlist.”

At the convenience store, they loaded up on soju and beer. Granny wasn’t working, and the college student part timer barely looked at them. Seolwoo lingered near the door, and Dongmin lingered behind Minhyuk a ways, because he was more recognizable. 

Minhyuk paid, and then he and Dongmin divvied up the shopping bags and started back to the dorm. 

“Do you think this is it for us? Is the team over?” Dongmin asked. 

“It was over as soon as I kissed Myungjun, I think,” Minhyuk said. “But then no team lasts forever. I don’t think I was planning on staying beyond seven years.”

“Was it over because you kissed him or was it over because I saw you kiss him?” Dongmin glanced at him, then looked away. “I think it was over as soon as they picked me instead of Junyong or Jaesung. I think they both wanted it so much more than I did. I’ve always been pulled in so many directions - singing and dancing, acting, modeling, commercials, and hunting. Always hunting. Always killing. Always watching out the corner of my eye for which beautiful woman might have an ulterior motive to be watching us and admiring us.”

“Well, you  _ are _ Cha Eunwoo,” Minhyuk said.

“Cha Eunwoo is overrated. Seolwoo-ssi is better-looking than me,” Dongmin said.

Seolwoo glanced over at them briefly, then resumed his casually alert scan of their surroundings.

“Seolwoo-ssi is very handsome,” Minhyuk conceded, “but you’re  _ Cha Eunwoo.” _

“Cha Eunwoo is an illusion.”

“Cha Eunwoo the celebrity, or Cha Eunwoo the dutiful Songbird son?”

Seolwoo saw them to the elevator, and he radioed Bora to let them know they were on their way.

“Both,” Dongmin said. “But I don’t think I ever really got to be just  _ Dongmin.” _

“Maybe, when all this is over, you’ll get to find out who Dongmin is,” Minhyuk said.

“I feel so terrible. I keep wanting everything to just be  _ over. _ The fans deserve so much more. The others deserve more.” Dongmin sighed and shook his head.

“Well...we’re professionals,” Minhyuk said. “We can give them our best, for as long as we can, and that’s all we can do.”

Dongmin nodded. “You’re right.”

The elevator doors slid open.

Bora was there to meet them. She walked them to the door. Minhyuk whistled a spell to dispel the ward on the door so they could get in, and Dongmin punched in the code. They bade Bora farewell, and she headed for the elevator.

Sanha and Bin pounced on them as soon as they were inside the door and took the drinks from them. Dongmin followed them into the kitchenette.

Minhyuk kicked off his shoes and headed for the bathroom to brush his teeth. 

While he was in his room changing for bed and rearranging the pillows and plushies to make a comfortable nest for sleeping, he could hear the others clinking glasses and laughing and then hissing at each other to keep it down so he could sleep.

He sighed and crawled under the covers and cuddled his favorite stuffed wolf close, and he closed his eyes. He’d done harder things. Being a trainee had been brutal, but he’d survived. Whatever had to be done, he would do it. If he wasn’t doing his best, he wasn’t being true to himself. Whatever he was - song-sharer, monster, singer, dancer, son, brother, friend, lover, liar - he was himself, and if he wasn’t true to himself, what was the point in going on?

After that, it was surprisingly easy to deepen his breathing and count his breaths and drift off to sleep.


	21. Chapter 21

“Minhyukie.”

He stirred. “Hm?”

“Move over. I’m cold. Jinie always gets hot when he drinks and he turned the air conditioner up too high and I’m cold now.”

Minhyuk blinked, sure he was dreaming. “Myungjunnie?”

Myungjun, face flushed, hair mussed, eyes half-closed, nodded and shoved at his shoulder. “Move over.”

Minhyuk obeyed, confused, and Myungjun climbed into the bed with him, pulled the blankets up over both of them. Then he wrapped his arms around Minhyuk and snuggled close.

Myungjun pressed a kiss to Minhyuk’s hair and squeezed him briefly. “Yah, Minhyukie, I’ve missed you.”

Minhyuk squeezed his eyes shut and swallowed hard. Then he managed a fairly calm, “I’ve missed you too, Myungjunnie.”

“Why did you have to be a song-eater? I know you can’t help it, that you were born that way, and that you really had no choice but to lie to me, to all of us. But all my life, I’ve done my best to comfort my mother, worked toward avenging my sister.” Myungjun stroked Minhyuk’s hair, his touch soft and gentle even though his words were slurred from heavy drinking.

Minhyuk said nothing. Myungjun was here again, in his arms. Any moment now he’d realize his mistake, push Minhyuk away, but for now he was close and Minhyuk could enjoy his warmth and listen to his heartbeat, and for a moment his broken heart felt whole again.

“If I’m with you, it’s a betrayal of my family and everything I’ve worked for. I don’t know how to be anything but my mother’s comforter and my sister’s avenger. Those are all I am. They call me the happy virus, but that’s just me comforting my mother. They call me the main vocalist, but that’s just me laying bait for Myungsoonie’s killer.” Myungjun buried his face against Minhyuk’s hair and squeezed him again. “I still love you, Minhyukie.”

Minhyuk bit back a sudden sob.

“And I know you still love me.” Myungjun smoothed a hand up and down Minhyuk’s back. “I love you so much, but we can never be together.”

Minhyuk bit his lip hard to stifle another sob, but the tears started to fall. He pulled back so Myungjun wouldn’t feel them wet his shirt, and he tried to sniffle as quietly as possible, but Myungjun pulled back and put his fingers under Minhyuk’s chin, tilted his head up.

“Ah, Minhyukie, why are you crying? You should never cry. You’re too beautiful to cry.”

Minhyuk blinked, but his vision was blurry with tears, and when Myungjun brushed his tears away he started crying harder.

“I’m so sorry, Minhyukie. I love you. Don’t cry. Everything will be better tomorrow.” Myungjun leaned in and kissed him.

Minhyuk kissed him back and felt his heart break all over again.

They kissed till they were breathless, and then they curled up close, and Myungjun hummed softly until they both fell asleep.

* * *

“What the hell is this?”

Minhyuk floundered awake, disoriented. “Wha-?”

Myungjun shoved him, and he landed on the floor. 

“What the hell are you doing in my bed?”

Minhyuk wheezed, winded, and pushed himself up. Myungjun knelt on the edge of the bed, hair wild, clothes askew, expression furious. 

“Answer me!”

A moment later, the door swung open. “Ah, hyung, stop shouting, please,” Dongmin begged. He stumbled for the dresser and grabbed some clean clothes.

Minhyuk finally caught his breath. He peered cautiously up at Myungjun. “You came in drunk last night. You said Jinwoo-hyung turned the AC up and you were cold.”

“O-oh.” Myungjun deflated. “Did anything happen?”

So he didn’t remember.

“You just took up most of the bed and stole most of the blankets,” Minhyuk said flatly. He stood and shook himself out. To Dongmin he said, “Shower. I can give you a bit of a boost to ease the hangover.”

Dongmin, squinting, nodded and shuffled out of the room.

Myungjun pushed himself to his feet and paused to make sure he had his balance. “I’m sorry,” he said, avoiding Minhyuk’s gaze. “I’ll be going now.”

Minhyuk just nodded and grabbed his phone off the charger and turned on a live music station.

While everyone else was showering, Minhyuk made hangover soup, and he drank as much music as he dared before bestowing little hangover-easing energy boosts to all his teammates but Myungjun. While the others ate, he showered and dressed. By the time he emerged from the bathroom, clean and freshly-dressed, the others had almost finished their breakfast and looked much less miserable.

“Were we too loud last night?” Jinwoo asked.

Minhyuk shook his head. “No, I slept all right.”

Dongmin glanced at him, then at Myungjun, but Minhyuk just shook his head again.

Jinwoo said, “I got a text message from Manager first thing this morning. We have a meeting at the company in a couple of hours.”

Bin nodded. “I’d been planning on going in to work out anyway.”

The company gym was just as nice as any fitness club, and it was free for all the employees.

“Do you know what it’s going to be about?” Sanha asked.

“Probably about our schedules now that all our voices are healed up,” Dongmin said.

Myungjun said, “You should tell him Minhyuk and I broke up.” He didn’t look up from his food.

“I already did.” Jinwoo’s tone was calm, but he offered Minhyuk a sympathetic look.

Minhyuk shrugged and had to swallow down the lump that rose in his throat suddenly. Myungjun didn’t remember what had happened last night. No matter. Minhyuk could carry those memories himself. They weren’t a terrible burden. They were just - bittersweet.

After breakfast, they all helped clean up, and then they gathered up their workout gear and other gear so they would be ready to meet the company van when it came to pick them up.

Seolwoo and Bora - did they even sleep? - met them at the door and rode with them in the van to the company, and once they were safe in the building, Manager dismissed them to go home and rest, saying the team would be at the company all day.

“All day?” Jinwoo asked.

Manager nodded. “Looks like you came prepared,” he added, eyeing their gym bags.

In the conference room, Sajangnim wasn’t present, for which Minhyuk was grateful, but Team-jangnim was there, along with a PR team and an art and style team. Manager sat beside Jinwoo, and the rest of the team arranged themselves accordingly. Minhyuk sat at one end of the row beside Dongmin. Myungjun was at the other end of the row.

“That didn’t last very long, did it?” Team-jangnim arched an eyebrow and smirked.

All she needed was red-tipped fingernails and excessive jewelry to be a drama-level villain. Minhyuk met her gaze and held it. He refused to look away. He and Myungjun hadn’t broken up because their feelings hadn’t been sincere or because they hadn’t tried.

After a moment, Team-jangnim’s smirk faded, and she looked away. She cleared her throat, and she turned to Jinwoo and Manager.

“You did well with promotions and the comeback, even though they had to be cut short.” She cut Minhyuk another glance, though this one was laden with grudging respect. “You did well comforting the fans, but that was you alone, and they all knew you took the least amount of damage in the attack.”

“Least amount of damage?” Dongmin echoed. His tone was icy. “It wasn’t a video game encounter.”

Team-jangnim winced. “Apologies. I - there’s not a lot of precedent for this kind of situation.”

One of the PR leaders took over. Minhyuk despaired of ever learning their names, but they were changing all the time. The one constant presence in his career was Bin, who was sitting on the other side of Dongmin, expression impassive.

The PR leader stood at the head of the conference table. “There are still concerns and fears industry-wide. Given what happened to you recently, and the fact that Eunwoo-ssi is a, uh, Songbird, we’ve decided to take a  _ lightning doesn’t strike twice _ approach and be bolder about having you appear as a team. After some discussion, we’ve decided that, if you choose, you could perform as a team of five, since only five of you are capable of dancing, and you have performed as a team of five in the past when one of you has had a separate schedule. Alternatively, you could do like Monsta X did for their LA concert last year when Kihyun-ssi was injured and MJ-ssi could sing onstage but remain seated in deference to his injury while the rest of you dance.”

Manager looked at Jinwoo. Jinwoo looked at the rest of the team.

“We’d have to think about that,” Jinwoo said.

“For the big virtual festival concert you were scheduled to appear in, we thought either just five or MJ-ssi seated onstage would be the best options, since you would only be performing three or four numbers at most,” the PR lady continued. “For your solo virtual concert, we thought perhaps something more relaxed and intimate, like an acoustic concert, might be better. MJ-ssi wouldn’t stand out so much with not dancing, but he’d still be able to perform comfortably, and also you could show off your vocals more for fans, demonstrate that you have really recovered, and also show off your instrument skills some more. There was a lot of positive feedback from the acoustic set you did from that one live broadcast after that first attack on those other three teams, and then from Rocky-ssi playing piano during his recent live broadcast, and it could be good to capitalize on that.”

Jinwoo glanced at the others again. Sanha wore a thoughtful expression. He really liked singing with his guitar. One day he was going to be a singer-songwriter, like some of his favorite sunbaes. 

“Would we need an additional musician?” Dongmin asked. “Jinwoo-hyung can play the cajon, which he’s done in performances before. Some of our songs, like Breathless, need at least two guitars to really sound any good.”

“It sounds like at least one of you is supportive of an acoustic concert,” the PR lady said. She cast Team-jangnim a triumphant look.

Manager said, “If you’re all feeling ready for it.”

“An acoustic set sounds manageable,” Bin said.

Minhyuk nodded his agreement.

Sanha and Myungjun nodded as well, so Jinwoo agreed.

PR lady cleared her throat. “On the issue of Eunwoo-ssi being a Songbird. We’ve reached out to Songbird Senior Command, but they’re quite firm on the issue of handling your Songbird publicity themselves. We’ve set our lawyers to the problem, but it turns out that Songbird Senior Command has a legal team of their own, so I think the issue is tabled. For now. While both sides work things out.”

Minhyuk saw Dongmin’s shoulders tighten fractionally.

Dongmin said, “I’ve always deferred to my mother when it comes to Songbird matters.”

“Your mother,” the PR lady echoed.

Manager said, “I told you she was his mother.”

“Commander Cha Eunsong is my mother,” Dongmin said. “Didn’t you ever wonder why my stage name is Cha Eunwoo?”

The PR lady looked at the rest of the PR team, who all shrugged awkwardly.

Dongmin added, “Songbird hierarchy is similar to military command structure. As a mere footsoldier, I must defer to my commanding officers in whatever they order.”

Team-jangnim looked deeply discomfited, like she was properly realizing for the first time that Dongmin killed supernatural creatures who looked just like regular people, and he did it for money.

Minhyuk couldn’t help but ask, “Do you actually get paid? For hunting. For most Songbirds it’s a full-time job, but -”

“Any compensation I receive for successful kills goes straight to my clan, not to me personally,” Dongmin said, with picture-perfect primness.

Sanha and Bin looked at Minhyuk with barely-disguised horror.

Some of the other PR ladies and men were looking nervous as well.

Jinwoo said, “We had a short acoustic set planned for our original virtual concert. We can use those numbers. Sanha and Myungjun - you’d already mostly arranged those, right? And maybe a single dance number, with just the dance line, would still be all right. We could do all the songs off the new album, plus all the ballads off the old albums.”

“And we should debut the new song Dongmin and Minhyuk have been working on,” Bin added.

A couple of the PR minions looked confused.

Manager said, “Eunwoo-ssi and Rocky-ssi.”

“We’re almost ready to record the guide track,” Dongmin said. “That was the song we were planning on doing a special music video for, a story video with Yoona-noona as the leading lady.”

“When I spoke to noona, she said she wanted to choose her own leading man, but we agreed it probably wouldn’t be a good idea if it was any one of us,” Minhyuk added.

A couple of the PR minions mouthed  _ noona _ in disbelief.

The lead PR lady said, “It sounds like we’re agreed for the acoustic concert.”

Jinwoo glanced at the team, and they all nodded. 

“Yes,” he said. “What are the parameters? Runtime, date, venue.”

The PR lady smiled, pleased, and they started bandying about proposals. Where they wouldn’t be dancing hard, they could perform a lot more numbers, but they would also have to take drink breaks and be careful of their voices. Since the concert was being streamed live, they would have an opportunity to interact with fans as well, answer some questions and maybe do some live video chats with a few lucky fans. Since it would be a more toned-down and laid back affair, they’d all go back to natural hair colors, for which Minhyuk was grateful.

Not every song on the new album lent itself well to an acoustic arrangement, so they decided to do a playful musical-esque set in addition to the acoustic set. During that discussion, Minhyuk couldn’t help but look at Myungjun and see how he felt about that, if he’d enjoy that or be sad at the reminder of what he was missing out on. When Myungjun lit up and started suggesting different concepts for different songs, Minhyuk couldn’t tell if he was sincere or faking it really well, and something in him ached.

The discussion ran so long that they had to break to order food for lunch, and it was late afternoon by the time all the details had been hashed out. That left the team barely enough time to go work out and then head back to the dorm. By then, Bora and Seolwoo had rested, and they met the team at the door, rode with them in the van, and escorted them right to their front door.

“Is it bad to be kind of excited about the concert?” Sanha asked. “With everything that’s going on, that’s happened…”

“No,” Jinwoo said firmly. He dropped his gym bag off in the bedroom. “We should have something to look forward to. We should enjoy our job. This is something we can give the fans, too, and we should be grateful we can still do something for them. Unlike other teams, we’re still here, all six of us.”

Sanha’s expression turned grim, and he nodded.

Minhyuk thought of Soohyang and Dohee, who’d finally been released from the hospital but had returned to a team shattered by the death of a teammate.

Team-jangnim had given him and Myungjun a stern lecture before she let them go for the day, about being professional and working hard.

He said, “I promise we are all still here, all six of us. I promise to work hard for us no matter what, all right?”

Bin, who was poking in the fridge for some banana milk, paused. “What? Why are you saying this all of a sudden?”

Minhyuk darted at glance at Myungjun, who had his headphones in and was humming along to a recording of one of the arrangements he and Sanha had worked on a while ago.

“I know things between hyung and I are awkward, but I promise, when we’re performing, I’ll be professional,” he said.

Bin’s expression softened. “I know you will. We all know,” he said.

Dongmin and Sanha nodded.

“Speaking of hard work,” Dongmin said, “let’s finish this song.”

* * *

They had three weeks to prepare a two-hour concert, which wasn’t a very long time. Sanha and Bin still had their weekly MC duties, and Dongmin still had his weekly variety show duties. Preparations felt a bit like their old trainee days in some ways, though. First thing in the morning, the dance line would rehearse the choreography for the dance number to Jinwoo’s song. Once dance practice was finished, they’d assemble in one of the smaller practice rooms and work on their harmonies for the acoustic songs while Jinwoo, Sanha, and Dongmin also practiced their instruments. An additional guitarist, one who sometimes worked with teams for live stages, was brought in for some of the numbers. Minhyuk was given a little egg maraca to help Jinwoo keep the beat. After vocal practice and instrument practice, they broke for lunch.

Usually they ordered food, and they sat around on the practice room floor, talking and sharing.

“Is this what it was like for you and Myungjun-hyung while the rest of us were in school?” Sanha asked, picking at some noodles. “Here at the company all day, every day, training.”

“Pretty much,” Jinwoo said. “Although I was still in high school when I became a trainee, too. I can’t imagine what it was like in middle school. You two are still such babies.” He shook his head and pretended to wipe a tear away.

“There’s a reason Myungjun-hyung was the only one of us to graduate as an honor student,” Minhyuk said.

Myungjun glanced at him briefly but didn’t say anything.

“I always forget that about you,” Bin said.

“Why do you think his eyesight is so bad?” Sanha said. “Because he studied so hard.”

Dongmin shook his head. “That’s not actually how it works.”

“He still studies hard,” Jinwoo said quietly.

At the end of every day, Myungjun shut himself in his room to research by himself, leaving the rest of them to putter around the den quietly, trying not to disturb him and feeling guilty for not doing more. Neither Sanha, Bin, nor Jinwoo had song-sharer magic, so any hopes Dongmin and Minhyuk might have had of arming them with simple whistle spells were in vain, so any studying they might have done had been scrapped. 

“Any word on when your song will be finalized?” Myungjun asked Dongmin. 

Minhyuk had recorded the vocals for the guide track so the others could learn their parts.

“We should be hearing about management’s decision today,” Dongmin said. “Say, you still have your good hand. Would you design the cover for us? For the single.”

Myungjun affected a pout. “And here I thought you were going to ask me to play Yoona’s leading man.”

“Once we figure out a concept for the video, she’s picking her own leading man,” Dongmin said. “I’d never dream of telling noona what to do.”

Myungjun laughed. Minhyuk was glad to see him laugh. These days, they barely spoke to each other, but Myungjun was brighter, more energetic and animated, partially because his arm didn’t hurt so much anymore. Because there were six of them, as long as they were careful, fans likely wouldn’t notice that Myungjun and Minhyuk rarely interacted directly.

“I would be glad to do the cover art for your song,” Myungjun said.

“Thank you, hyung,” Dongmin said sincerely.

Jinwoo glanced at his watch. “Lunch is almost over. Let’s clean up and get back to work.”

Even if their non-acoustic numbers didn’t have full-on choreography, they still had blocking, and that meant navigating mock-ups of the sets that an art team was rushing to build, so the afternoons were spent working on their musical numbers, as Myungjun had taken to calling them. In an effort to save time and money, they were revisiting some of the visual concepts from their music videos, so they could reuse the stage costumes from those eras and some of the leftover music video and photoshoot props as well. Since their most recent comeback had had a time traveler theme, they had worked out a concept where they traveled through their own time, and the art team had been pretty excited about it, so the concept must have been all right, since the art team was rarely impressed by anything.

* * *

After a week and a half of solid rehearsals, upper management gave them the green light on Dongmin and Minhyuk’s song. They had a day to record it and a day to film their portions of the music video once it was finalized. 

Being out in the sun and fresh air was a welcome change from the fluorescent lighting and exacting acoustics of the practice rooms, but with the existing security concerns - the company was trying to portray an attitude of  _ lighting doesn’t strike twice, _ but they weren’t taking that attitude with their artists’ safety - the six of them had to be obedient and stay under Bora and Seolwoo’s watchful gazes whenever they weren’t actively shooting. Manager did his best to keep things lively, to take cute photos and short videos of them for behind-the-scenes content later, but even Minhyuk, ever wary of Songbird Senior Command and their continued silence about what to do with Dongmin, had been on alert, ready to protect his teammates as well.

Per the music video director’s vision, Minhyuk and his teammates would never actually appear in any scenes with Yoona and her chosen leading man, who was an actor from their company, a diplomatic concession made by Yoona, and so Minhyuk and his teammates would also be gone from the music video set before Yoona and her leading man ever arrived.

Back at the company, they agreed to work on their own tasks for a bit, then meet up and head back to the dorms for supper.

“I want to work on my guitar parts,” Sanha said.

“I should work on my piano parts,” Dongmin said.

“I need to work on my drum parts, so we should all work together, just instruments,” Jinwoo said. 

“I technically play an instrument too,” Minhyuk said. There had been some debate about having Minhyuk play piano on one number, but in the end the team had agreed to keep things simple, for everyone’s sanity.

Bin frowned. “I wanted to work on our dance part a bit more.”

“Well...how about Sanha and I work together, just the two of us, while you three dance, and when you’re done you can come join us?” Dongmin looked to Jinwoo for confirmation.

Jinwoo nodded. “Give us half an hour, and we’ll be there.”

Minhyuk followed Bin and Jinwoo to the dance studio. After a day of standing around and trying to emote at a camera, the opportunity to dance was welcome. Jinwoo queued up some music over the sound system so they could do a brief warm-up, and then they went right into the choreography. They did their pancake run, then three more runs to make sure they had the choreo down, and after that they picked a section to focus on. By the end of half an hour, they had the first minute of the choreo polished really well.

“Hopefully everything we’ve done today won’t be totally undone by camera rehearsals next week,” Jinwoo said as they headed down the hall toward the instrument room.

“We’ll be able to adjust easily,” Bin said. “I’m pretty excited about the three-sixty options. We’ll be able to do some really cool things with our formations and solos.”

Jinwoo nodded. Since he’d composed and produced the song, he’d been given the honor of choreographing the majority of the dance as well, and he wanted the performance to be memorable not just for the fans but for himself as an artist.

Sanha and Dongmin had arranged some chairs in a semicircle for everyone and had even set up Jinwoo’s cajon and put a little maraca on Minhyuk’s chair.

“What about me?” Bin asked.

“There’s a chair for you.” Dongmin pointed. “You can practice your harmonies.”

Bin beamed and sat.

“Where should we start?” Jinwoo asked, settling onto his cajon.

Minhyuk had to practice his harmonies as much as he had to practice helping keep the beat.

“From the top,” Sanha said, strumming a chord on his guitar.

Dongmin nodded. “All right.” And he played a familiar opening riff.

Minhyuk felt his chest tighten. Innocent Love had been his favorite song off their first album. The artist in him was always pleased at how surprised fans were at the high notes he hit for the ad-libs in the final chorus of the song. All of them had grown past the sweetness of songs like this, about puppy love, but they’d agreed to revisit it in the name of their time-travel theme. And now Minhyuk could bring some authenticity to this song, because he’d had his first love - and lost him.

Sanha sang Myungjun’s opening lines so Dongmin wouldn’t miss his cue on his lines, and Bin sang the bridge, and then -

“Yah! Whose phone isn’t on silent?” Jinwoo demanded as the song came to a discordant halt.

Since it was just the generic ringtone, they all had to pat themselves down and find their phones. 

“Not me,” Sanha said, waggling his phone triumphantly.

“Not me,” Bin added.

“Not me,” Minhyuk said.

Jinwoo held his own phone out to Dongmin, unimpressed.

“Sorry, hyung,” Dongmin said, digging his phone out of his pocket. “Let me just - hang on. It’s noona.” He answered. “Hello, noona.”

“Dongmin-ah,” Yoona said breezily. “Are those police records helpful? I hope they’re helpful.”

“Police records?” Dongmin echoed.

“Yes, the ones you requested for your research project. I just received delivery confirmation,” Yoona said, her tone turning sharp.

“Apologies, noona, we’re rehearsing for our concert. Did you have them delivered to the company? Perhaps someone on the staff -”

“Bomi only would have delivered them to one of your teammates directly,” Yoona said.

“Ah, we’re not all together at the moment, I’ll see if my teammates texted me. Apologies, noona,” Dongmin said, and Minhyuk immediately checked his phone, but of course he had no messages from Myungjun.

Sanha shook his head. Bin shook his head. Jinwoo’s expression turned grim.

“Bomi says she delivered them to Myungjun-ssi,” Yoona said.


	22. Chapter 22

Dongmin’s face went pale, but his tone was calm. “I’ll check with him. I’m sure they’ll be very helpful. Thank you so much, noona.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t get them to you sooner. I hope they’re as helpful as you hoped. Now, I need to go be a beautiful heartbreaker. Wish me luck.” Yoona’s tone turned breezy again.

“Noona fighting,” Dongmin said obligingly, and the call ended.

Jinwoo was already on the phone to Myungjun. “He’s not answering.”

“I’ll try him,” Sanha said.

Bin tried as well.

So did Dongmin.

Minhyuk wasn’t about to try directly, so he texted Manager and asked him if he had a location on Myungjun - or at least his phone. Manager responded in the negative. 

“Maybe Myungjun is in a quiet place reviewing the police records,” Jinwoo said.

Sanha shook his head. “They won’t be much use without the information about calculating a killer’s comfort zone. He’d have to go back to the dorm for that.”

Dongmin tapped rapidly at his phone. “I’ll ask Bora and Seolwoo if one of them escorted hyung back to the dorm.”

“What about Bomi? Would she have escorted him so Bora and Seolwoo could stay here?” Jinwoo asked.

“I can text her too,” Dongmin said.

Minhyuk tapped Jinwoo’s arm. “Check with building security. If Myungjun did leave, they probably saw it on the CCTV.”

Jinwoo nodded and turned away for some privacy while he made the call.

Dongmin swore. “Bora and Seolwoo haven’t seen Myungjun. Bomi said she gave the file to Myungjun and went straight back to Yoona.”

“Should we report Myungjun missing to the police?” Sanha asked.

“He’s an adult. They won’t count him missing for at least twenty-four hours,” Bin said. “Besides, we know he had to go back to the dorms, so we should head there. Look, if he just went back to the dorms to study, we should be fine. We can head back to the dorms and talk to him and help him out. He just barely got the records, so he can’t do too much, right?”

But Myungjun had never been rational when it came to his sister. When he’d been drunk and in Minhyuk’s bed, he’d confessed that he’d lived his entire life for two things, and one of them was to avenge his sister’s death.

Minhyuk’s heart raced, and his mind was spinning to match, but he forced himself to take several deep breaths. “We worked today and practiced well. So let’s head back to the dorm and talk to Myungjun and help him out and work out a plan as a team from there.”

Jinwoo said, “I don’t think hyung actually went back to the dorm.”

“Why?” Dongmin asked.

“Security says a bunch of cameras malfunctioned, starting at the practice room where Myungjun-hyung met with Bomi and ending at one of the back doors that leads out onto the street.” Jinwoo’s face was pale. “He has song-sharer magic. You think he could have learned that Songbird spell? The one that disables cameras.”

Dongmin swore again. “He asked me about it. I didn’t think twice about showing it to him.”

“If he was headed home, he wouldn’t have bothered with the spell. He must have headed somewhere else,” Bin said. “How would he know where to go so quickly?”

“He was studying alone in his room a lot,” Sanha said. “He could have made copies of the notes from the journal. He wouldn’t even have to write them down, he could just take scans with his phone.”

Minhyuk’s heart pounded in his ears. “But he _just_ got those records.”

“Let me call Bomi.” Dongmin put his phone on speaker, and they all leaned in and listened while it rang.

“Dongmin-ssi, were the records helpful? Did you find your teammate?”

“Bomi-ssi, just how long ago did you deliver those records?” Dongmin asked, bypassing niceties entirely.

“About forty-five minutes ago. Not that long.”

“How big was the file?” Dongmin asked.

“Not too big,” Bomi said. “Maybe a dozen useful records. I only brought the useful ones, to be kind.”

“Thank you. We appreciate it,” Dongmin said. “Have a good day.” He ended the call.

“A dozen cases,” Jinwoo said. “Do you think -?”

“Myungjun-hyung is _really_ good at math,” Sanha said. “Even if he seems slow at the multiplication game, when it comes to more complicated math, with the calculator on his phone, twelve sets of data would be a breeze.”

“But he has a broken arm.” Bin looked distressed. “He can’t fight.”

Minhyuk forced himself to take another deep breath. “Maybe he’s just taking a look around. We need to figure out where he went.”

“But how?” Bin asked.

“The room he was in. Maybe he left the records behind,” Jinwoo said. “The room where the first security camera went dead. I’ll call security again.”

Minhyuk couldn’t stand it any longer. He called Myungjun. It went straight to voicemail.

Minhyuk left a message. “Myungjunnie,” he said softly. “Please. Don’t do anything rash. Let us help you. Tell us where you are.” He bit back an _I love you_ and ended the call, and he sent a text message.

_Where are you?_

“This can’t be good,” Dongmin said, staring at his phone like it was a ticking bomb.

Bin peered over his shoulder. “What?”

“Myungjun’s mother is calling me.”

“Answer it,” Sanha said.

Jinwoo ended his call and crowded close.

Dongmin swiped the screen, put the call on speaker, held a finger to his lips before he spoke. “Eomoni, good afternoon.”

“Dongmin-ah, you’re really a Songbird, right?”

“Yes, Eomoni, I trained as a Songbird since childhood, like any female Songbird,” Dongmin said cautiously. 

Myungjun’s mother sounded like she was crying. “Then you know. About - about Songbirds. And song-eaters. And how song-eaters can cure cancer.”

Bin started to swear and clapped a hand over his mouth.

“Eomoni?” Dongmin asked, tone polite and solicitous. His expression was stone-cold.

“I know I’m not supposed to say anything about it. After what happened to my Myungsoonie, I know what’ll happen if I tell, but you already know, so - you have to stop Myungjunnie.” 

“Myungjun-hyung? What’s he doing?” Dongmin asked.

“He called me and said he found Myungsoonie’s killer.” Myungjun’s mother sniffled. “I never told him how she really died. I didn’t dare. I knew I couldn’t. I didn’t think he was serious when he said he would avenge her. But he said he found something. If he talks to the wrong person, says the wrong thing, I’ll lose him too. Dongmin-ah, please. Save my son.”

Jinwoo closed his eyes and groaned softly.

Sanha grabbed Bin’s arm, eyes wide.

“Where is he?” Dongmin asked.

“He said he was going to the Royal Azalea Gardens in Gunpo.” Myungjun’s mother let out a sob.

“Call him and stall him,” Dongmin said. “Stop him from talking to anyone but you. We’ll get there as soon as we can.” 

He was already heading for the door.

“All right.”

“Call me immediately if he tells you he’s gone somewhere else. I have to go now.” Dongmin hung up.

Manager stood outside the door, fist raised to knock. “Any word from Myungjun-ah?”

“We need car keys and a company car,” Dongmin said.

“What? Why?”

“Now!” 

Manager, shocked that Dongmin had raised his voice, reached into his pocket and surrendered a set of keys. Dongmin grabbed them and set off for the stairs at a run.

The others followed.

“Wait! Take Seolwoo and Bora with you!” Manager called after them.

“Should we take them with us?” Bin asked as they charged down the stairs and headed for the parking lot.

“Not Seolwoo,” Dongmin said. He tossed his phone to Bin. “Text Bora, Bomi, and noona. Tell them what’s going on. If they can, they should meet us there.”

Sanha reached the parking lot first on account of his long legs and pushed the door open, held it for the others.

Dongmin toggled the keys over and over again until a sedan lit up, and they piled in. Dongmin barely had the presence of mind to adjust the seat and mirrors before they peeled out of the parking lot.

Bin sat in the passenger seat, tapping away at Dongmin’s phone and relaying messages from Bomi and Bora. Bora would meet them there. Bomi was with Yoona, and they were still shooting; she couldn’t get away. Seolwoo had been dismissed and sent home to wait for further instructions.

“What’s at the Royal Azalea Gardens besides flowers?” Sanha asked.

“Don’t you remember?” Minhyuk asked. “Myungjun and Dongmin grew up in adjoining neighborhoods. Myungjun won an art prize at the flower festival one year when he was in elementary school. Hyung, you went every year, right?”

“Yes,” Dongmin said tightly.

“Heol, you’re like Myungjun’s number one fangirl,” Sanha said.

Jinwoo rolled his eyes. “Not now. How long to Gunpo?”

“It’s a twenty-minute drive,” Dongmin said.

“How much of a head start does Myungjun have on us?” Bin asked.

“About twenty minutes, maybe more,” Minhyuk said. He leaned up between the front seats. “What’s at the gardens? Is it near a residential area? Do you think he’s going house to house or something crazy?”

“It’s near my grandmother’s house,” Dongmin said.

Minhyuk said, “Cha Clan headquarters. Where the dungeons are.”

“Yes.”

“Which are heavily guarded.”

“Yes.”

“Will anyone there recognize Myungjun?” Jinwoo asked.

“As one of my teammates, at best,” Dongmin said. 

“And at worst?” Sanha asked.

“Depends on what he knows and what he says and who he says it to.”

“Drive faster,” Bin said.

“If I get pulled over it’ll delay us even more,” Dongmin snapped.

“What’s the plan for when we get there?” Jinwoo asked. “Only two of you are any use in a fight.”

“Our plan is to get Myungjun out of there and run,” Dongmin said. “While sustaining minimal injury. That is all.” 

Sanha tapped Minhyuk on the shoulder. “Hyung. Do you want a power-up? Before we get there.”

“No. You all need to be at full strength. Don’t forget, even without drinking any music, I’m twice as strong as a regular human.” 

“Right,” Sanha said faintly.

Dongmin’s phone rang, and Bin scrambled to answer it. 

“Eomoni, this is Bin. Dongmin is driving. Where’s Myungjun-hyung now?”

“He says he’s found the house where he thinks the song-eater lives and he’s rung the doorbell and he’s waiting for her to answer.” Myungjun’s mother was sobbing so hard her words were barely intelligible.

Dongmin guided the car off the expressway and into the heart of the city. They’d managed to just get ahead of after-work rush hour from workers heading south from working in the heart of Seoul.

“Did he say where the house is?” Bin asked.

“Near the park,” he said.

“How many parks are there in Gunpo?” Sanha asked.

Dongmin’s expression was grimly determined. “I know which one.” Louder, he said, “Eomoni, please call him back and stall him some more.”

“I don’t know how.”

“Tell him,” Dongmin said.

“Tell him what?”

“Tell him what happened to your daughter, why she really died,” Dongmin said.

“W-what?”

“It’ll slow him down.”

“But -”

“If you want to save your son from the same fate as your daughter, _tell him,”_ Dongmin said. “He deserves to hear it from you. He’s going to hear it eventually.”

He turned the car sharply, and they went from a crowded commercial district to a crowded residential district. A tall stand of apartments gave way to a lush green park, sprawling wide with lily ponds, fountains that looked like mountains in classical paintings, a playground, sculptures, and what looked like a forest, neatly-paved climbing and walking trails, and more. Children were playing on the playground, their parents watching over them fondly.

Dongmin circled around the park instead of heading for the parking lot. It looked like he was headed for the trees, but then he turned down a drive that appeared out of nowhere between the trees and then he was pulling to a stop in front of a traditional Korean mansion that was straight out of a drama. 

“I don’t see a car,” Bin said. 

Dongmin parked the car and cut the engine. “He could have taken a taxi. It’s just as fast as driving.” 

“I don’t see a gate with a doorbell,” Sanha said. 

Minhyuk scanned the front courtyard, but all he saw was the outer wall and the main gate, and beyond that the tiered roof of the main house. It was massive. He took a deep breath and expanded his hearing. 

Dongmin said, “There’s a gate in the back.” He pocketed Manager’s keys and held out his hand to Bin. 

Bin laced his fingers with Dongmin’s hesitantly. 

Dongmin shook him off. “My phone.”

“Oh!” Bin handed it back. 

Dongmin texted Bora, Bomi, and Yoona to tell them their location. Then he whistled, four sharp, shrill notes. 

Goosebumps prickled along Minhyuk’s arms. 

“What was that?” Jinwoo asked. 

“I shut down the exterior cameras,” Dongmin said and led them along the wall. The trees grew close to the high wall, and only a narrow path had been maintained beside it. 

“Can’t they just reverse it?” Sanha asked. 

“The magic doesn’t work that way. They’ll have to reboot the cameras manually.” Dongmin rounded the corner and whistled again. His necklace flared, and then he was holding one of his shining silver swords. He held it out to Sanha. “Take this.”

Sanha accepted it by the hilt. “This is - big. Um. Shouldn’t I have something safer? Like a knife maybe?”

“With a knife you’d have to get closer to your enemy,” Dongmin said, and Sanha paled. 

“Right.” He clutched the sword tighter. 

Dongmin whistled again, and his necklace flared once more, disappeared completely - and became a shining silver chain. He handed it to Bin. “Here. Use it like a whip. It won’t hurt you but the silver will burn one of them. And Minhyuk. Don’t hit Minhyuk with it either.”

“Right.” Bin accepted it and coiled it in his hand. “It’s lighter than I thought it would be.”

“It’s magic,” Dongmin said. He whistled a third time and handed another shorter chain to Jinwoo. “But remember - our goal isn’t to fight. It’s to get Myungjun and leave.”

Jinwoo accepted the chain and nodded. 

They marched single file along the wall, carefully avoiding the trees, Dongmin leading the way, Minhyuk bringing up the rear even though he was itching to see Myungjun and make sure he was all right. 

In typical Myungjun fashion, they saw him before they heard him. 

“I know it’s been a long time, but I was just wondering if anyone remembered her.”

He wasn’t being loud, though. He was being calm and earnest. Polite. 

Dongmin stopped just at the corner and then peeked around carefully. The other three didn’t protest when Minhyuk pushed past them and craned his neck to peer over Dongmin’s shoulder. 

Myungjun stood at the step below the old-fashioned gate, holding up a familiar photo, gazing earnestly up at a woman. She was slender but strong, wore a black turtleneck and black slacks and boots like any Songbird. But she wasn’t just any Songbird. Minhyuk could see it in the glow of her skin, the perfect silken sheen of her hair, the lushness of her lips. 

She was a song-sharer, and she had fed recently.

She was a song- _eater._

She leaned in and peered at the photo Myungjun held out. “No, I’m sorry, I don’t recognize her.”

To anyone else she’d have sounded sincerely sympathetic. To Minhyuk, with his inhumanly fine hearing, she sounded hollow. Empty.

Thirsty.

“Are you sure?” Myungjun asked.

There was a waver in his voice. Choked-back tears. Minhyuk knew that sound from when they were rookies, when they’d be singing and dancing onstage and Myungjun would be smiling for the cameras but crying while he sang because he was so exhausted.

“Because my mother says someone here fed on her and used her life force to cure my mother’s cancer.”

Myungjun’s mother had done what Dongmin instructed, but both of them had underestimated Myungjun’s resilience - and his resolve to avenge his sister’s death.

The song-eater struck. 

One moment she was standing on the doorstep, affecting the mien of a professional Songbird standing guard, the next she had her hand around Myungjun’s throat and was _squeezing._

“Your mother says, does she? Well, it looks like your sister’s sacrifice was in vain, because you’ll have to die - and your mother too,” the song-eater said.

Dongmin broke into a dead sprint. Halfway to the song-eater, whistled musical notes drifted back toward the others, and he had his two long knives in hand.

“Let my teammate go,” he said.

The song-eater’s knuckles turned white.

Myungjun crumpled to the ground, unmoving.

Dongmin struck, blades flashing.

“We have to get Myungjun and get out of here,” Sanha said, and he gripped the silver sword with both hands.

Bin and Jinwoo uncoiled their chains.

The song-eater moved so fast she was a blur even to Minhyuk, but somehow Dongmin kept after her.

Myungjun still wasn’t moving. Was he even breathing?

“Wait,” Minhyuk said.

Dongmin drove forward with a series of lightning-fast slashes. The song-eater screamed in fury. Minhyuk smelled burning flesh and the heavy coppery tang of blood.

Dongmin and the song-eater paused on the steps, breathing hard, face-to-face. Dongmin’s face was scratched and bruised. The song-eater was bleeding heavily from a gash in her arm. She sneered - and then she punched.

Dongmin reacted smoothly, one blade up to block, the other to parry.

The song-eater kicked. Her boot connected with Dongmin’s ribs with a crunch of bone.

Dongmin went flying. It was something out of a movie. The kind of movie where the humans lost and the song-eaters won.

Sanha screamed.

The song-eater turned, eyes narrowed. Was she the kind who could steal screams?

Minhyuk grabbed Sanha’s shoulder and yanked him back. “Back to the car. Run. All of you. Now.”

“Hyung,” Sanha protested.

“I said _now.”_ Minhyuk shoved him into Bin and Jinwoo, sent all of them stumbling backward. Then he turned and charged.

He was on the song-eater before she could get to Dongmin. He punched her in the back of the head.

She reeled, then spun around, snarling. She wasn’t beautiful anymore. She looked feral.

Minhyuk had a moment to think, _No wonder people call us animals,_ before she flew at him.

Sparring and point fighting had taught him a lot, but not how to be prepared for this.

No, dancing had prepared him for this, how to get out of his head and let his body take over.

Nothing could prepare him for fighting a full-grown, fully-fed, _furious_ song-eater who was who knew how old and had who knew how much combat experience. Minhyuk wasn’t sure how long he held out. It was long enough to notice Dongmin panting on the ground, trying to push himself up, and Myungjun just barely stirring, and Jinwoo and Bin dragging Sanha into the trees.

And then he was on the ground, winded.

The song-eater turned back to Dongmin, kicked him in the ribs.

There was another crunch of bone. Dongmin coughed wetly. No. He could drown in his own blood. He couldn’t fight anymore.

The song-eater turned back to Myungjun, who stirred again. She was going to kill him. Minhyuk couldn’t let her. Minhyuk wouldn’t let her.

He tried to push himself up and realized he couldn’t feel one arm and one leg. Had she damaged his nerves? His spine? Did he have broken bones? Was he in shock?

The song-eater knelt beside Myungjun and reached for his throat once more.

No. Minhyuk couldn’t let her touch him.

There was only one thing Minhyuk could think to do.

He sucked in a breath, and he began to sing.

He didn’t even have to think of the melody because he’d sung it a thousand times recently.

_No, don’t_

The song-eater whipped around, and her expression went from combat-blank to feral-gleeful. 

She thought it was a protest. She inhaled, and Minhyuk felt that visceral tug of his voice - his energy, his life - leaving him. When she tasted his voice, she smiled.

He sang on, doing his best to remember technique, breath control, to make his voice as sweet as possible.

_That shy summer day when we first met_

_I keep thinking about it, all day_

_I’m just looking for you_

_I can’t live without you_

She prowled closer to him, sipping all the while, lips parted in a ghoulish grin.

He kept on singing.

She sank to her knees beside him and reached out, stroked a hand over his hair in a parody of a lover’s caress. Then she leaned in and _inhaled,_ and his song cut off.

Minhyuk had given his voice to his mother before, to heal his grandmother and brother and father.

He’d never had it taken like this. Like it was being ripped out of him through every nerve ending, tugged from the roots and wrenched and yanked and _torn -_

He felt it, the moment something in him snapped, the moment his voice was just _gone._

But he was still alive, for a little longer.

He could still breathe.

He could see, out of the corner of his eye, Dongmin dragging himself across the ground toward them, one arm hanging awkwardly by his side. Myungjun had rolled onto his stomach and was retching. They were both still alive. Minhyuk could save them, because Minhyuk could still breathe.

He inhaled the tiniest bit.

And he exhaled.

And he whistled.

Dongmin’s second sword leaped into his hand.

It _burned_ like he’d placed his hand upon the sun itself, but he didn’t care.

He just shoved the sword through the song-eater’s chest.

The last thing he heard before his world went spotty and gray was his own voice fading in the cacophony of screams, the captured voices that were finally set free when a song-eater died.

The last thing he thought was, _Myungjunnie, I’m sorry._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Neither whistling nor whispering require a voice, just breath.
> 
> Of course, the last thing Minhyuk ever sings is [No, Don't](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XcBXxN8AvaY)


	23. Chapter 23

The afterlife was pale, colorless. Empty. 

Black was wrong as the color of death. Black was opaque, heavy, but it was present. Or it was endless, full of possibility, like outer space and the universe. 

This place, that was neither white - which was potential, like a blank page or an empty canvas - nor grey, was lifeless. Hollow. 

So this was death. 

Minhyuk had always believed in an afterlife, in reincarnation. In his happy moments, he prayed for success for his team, health and happiness for his family, health and happiness for Myungjun. In his darker moments, he prayed that in his next life he’d be born a regular human. 

In his worst moments, he wondered if his kind was granted an afterlife at all. 

If animals could be reincarnated, why not a song-sharer? 

And then he realized he could hear beeping. 

He turned his head and saw machines. Hospital machines. He was in a hospital in a hospital bed. He was alive. He’d survived. 

How? 

He tried to move, but his arms and legs were trapped. Panic set in. Had he been discovered? Had Cha Clan Songbirds found them and rescued them only long enough to interrogate them before executing them? 

Panic shot down Minhyuk’s spine, but he felt dull and sluggish. Because he was on drugs. He felt the sting in the back of his hand and realized he was on an IV. When he finally really took in his surroundings, he realized he wasn’t alone. His mother was slumped over on one side of him, holding one of his hands. His grandmother was asleep in a chair beside him, chin to chest, clutching his other hand. When he looked down at his feet to see why they were trapped, his father and younger brother were both slumped over the bottom of the bed. Minseok was wearing a rumpled school uniform. How long had they been here? How long had Minhyuk been out of it? 

He closed his eyes and did a quick self-inventory. All his limbs were intact. Either he hadn’t been that injured in the fight, or he’d been unconscious for a long time, long enough for those injuries to heal. The burns on his hands had healed too. Was his face itching? If he’d been in the hospital for a long time he probably hadn’t been able to shave. Unless his mother or father had taken care of that for him?

His chest tightened, and it was hard to breathe. The thought of his family worrying over him like this for so long made him feel awful. Grandma shouldn’t have been coming to the hospital so often. Minseok should have been focusing on school and spending time with his friends. He deserved to have a normal childhood. Even if Minhyuk had been quite injured, he still healed faster than regular humans.

Then he looked at his mother and grandmother, and their joint presence even now made much more sense. They must have helped with his healing when his father and brother weren’t around. 

What about Myungjun and Dongmin? Were they all right? Dongmin had been hurt so badly, and so had Myungjun. They didn’t have his supernatural healing. And the rest of Minhyuk’s teammates. Where were they? Had they made a clean getaway?

If Minhyuk’s family was here, that probably meant Songbird Senior Command hadn’t captured him and revived him for interrogation. But what about Dongmin? He was probably in so much trouble with his mother and the rest of his clan, if not the entirety of Senior Command.

Upper management at the company was probably furious. Both concerts had been ruined because three of them had gone and gotten themselves injured. 

Minhyuk considered trying to sit up, but he didn’t want to disturb his family.

He sneezed.

Grandma jolted awake. 

“Minhyukie.” She squeezed his hand.

“Grandma,” he said, but nothing came out.

His voice was gone.

Completely gone. When the song-eater had been feeding on him, he’d felt it, that _snap,_ the thing his mother had always warned him about when he was sharing his voice with her for healing others. There was no getting it back.

“Grandma,” he mouthed.

Tears filled her eyes, but she squeezed his hand again and nodded. She reached out and shook Minseok’s shoulder. “Minseokie, go get a nurse. Your brother’s awake.”

Minseok stirred. “What?”

Minhyuk wiggled his toes experimentally, poking Minseok in the face.

Minseok frowned and swatted at his foot. “Ah, hyung.” His eyes went wide. “Hyung!”

“A nurse,” Grandma said. “Go.”

Minseok scrambled to his feet and dashed across the room, pulled open the door. “Nurse! Nurse, get a doctor! My brother is awake!”

Minhyuk’s mother woke next, sitting up and coming to alertness in seconds. “My son.” She threw her arms around him and started to sob.

Minhyuk held her tightly, patting her back, unable to speak.

“Minah,” Grandmother said gently. “His voice is gone.”

Eomma pulled back. She caught Minhyuk’s face in her hands, looked into his eyes. “Is it true?”

He nodded.

“Is it all the way gone?”

He nodded again.

“You felt it? The snap, the break?”

“Yes,” he mouthed, and no sound came out.

She burst into tears.

“Eomma,” he mouthed, and gathered her in his arms.

Dad flailed awake. “Minah? Grandma? What’s going on?” He rubbed his eyes. “Minhyukie. Son. You’re awake. Your mother must be so relieved.”

He rose and came to stand beside his wife, embrace her as well. “It’s all right, darling. Our son will be fine. He’s awake now. Dr. Jo said he was lucky he wasn’t hurt more.”

Minseok came skittering back across the room to stand beside Grandma, watching with wide eyes while their mother cried.

The doctor was an older man with hair graying at the temples, heavier set, with glasses.

“Honey, Dr. Jo is here, he needs to check our son,” Dad said.

Eomma let Minhyuk go and stood back, still crying. Dad put an arm around her shoulders.

“Is he all right?” Minseok asked.

Dr. Jo stood beside Minhyuk’s bed. “How are you feeling, young man?”

Minhyuk made an _okay_ sign with his hand.

“His voice,” Eomma sobbed. “His voice is gone.”

Dr. Jo frowned.

Minseok grabbed Grandma’s arm. “But it’ll come back, right?”

Dr. Jo checked over Minhyuk’s vital signs even though that was probably totally unnecessary and something a nurse could probably do. He asked Minhyuk what his pain level was like, on a scale of one to ten, and when Minhyuk indicated zero, Dr. Jo unhooked him from the IV. He checked Minhyuk’s ears, nose, and throat.

Then he said, very gently, “Now, this might be difficult, but during the attack. When the woman was stealing your voice. Did you feel a sort of...breaking sensation? Kind of like a bone breaking.”

Minhyuk knew exactly what he meant, and he nodded.

“I’m sorry,” Dr. Jo said. “His voice is gone permanently.”

Dad turned pale. Eomma sobbed louder.

Dad said, “Do you mean he’ll never sing again, or…?”

Dr. Jo looked at Minhyuk. “There’s no easy way to say this, but - you’ll never even speak again. I know with your career that your voice was very important. If you need it, you can speak to a counselor here at the hospital, and we can connect you with some resources to learn sign language.”

Minhyuk nodded. He’d known the moment his voice was lost. He’d given it up willingly. But hearing it so starkly like that made his throat close and his eyes burn. No. He had to hold it together for his family. He blinked rapidly.

“Hyung.” Minseok’s eyes filled with tears. “Hyung, will you be all right?”

Minhyuk nodded. He held out a hand, and Minseok scrambled onto the bed beside him. Minhyuk put an arm around him and held him. Unlike Sanha, Minseok was smaller, slighter, and he fit against Minhyuk’s side better. 

“Other than the loss of your voice, you are in remarkable health,” Dr. Jo said, “but I’m given to understand that quick thinking by your mother, grandmother, and cousin when you brought in are the main reason for that.”

“Cousin?” Dad asked.

The door slid open, and Yoona strode into the room. She must have come straight from the set of her drama, because she was in killer heels and another expensive pantsuit. Bora and Bomi trailed behind her.

“Minhyuk-ah, how are you feeling? I came as soon as I heard you’d awakened.”

Dad’s mouth fell open. Minseok’s mouth fell open. They both closed their mouths when Grandma glared at them.

But Yoona bowed to Grandma and greeted her, then bowed to Minhyuk’s mother and called her Aunt.

Minhyuk flashed her an _okay_ sign, then put his hands together in the sign for _thank you._

Yoona’s expression sobered. “Even speaking is gone, then?”

Minhyuk nodded. He made a scribbling motion. Everyone looked at him, confused.

Dr. Jo caught on first. “I have a pen, but - no paper.”

Minhyuk mimed texting with a phone.

“Your phone was broken,” Bora said. She must have been the first one to the scene of the attack.

Minseok unlocked his phone and handed it over.

Minhyuk sent a message to the family group chat. _What happened to my teammates?_

There was no response, so Minseok said, “Dad, check your phone.”

Dad fished his phone out of his pocket, and he read the message aloud.

Yoona said, “Luckily, Bora-ssi was able to get to you quite quickly. The others are here at the hospital, and Dr. Jo has been taking very good care of them. He’s a longtime family friend.”

Did that mean he knew the truth about song-sharers and Songbirds? He did seem to understand the mechanics behind someone losing their voice to a song-eater.

“Thanks to Dr. Jo, your teammates have been able to receive excellent medical care,” Yoona continued. “In fact, Dongmin-ah and Myungjun-ssi woke before you and have been asking after you. Would you like to see them?”

Minhyuk nodded.

Yoona smiled at him, then cast a look at Bomi, who nodded and ducked out of the room.

“Eomma,” Minseok said cautiously, “you and Yoona-ssi are related?”

Yoona smiled and tossed her long hair and looked perfectly sweet. “I thought the only connection I had with your brother’s team was through Dongmin-ah, because I know his mother, but then I got to talking to Minhyuk-ah during discussions about the song he wrote recently, and it turns out that we’re related, and I haven’t seen your mother in a very long time.”

In a very long time. Was that another lie, one of the thousands Yoona had woven in her tenuous existence as a Songbird who hated Songbird Senior Command? Could it be true? If it was, what did it mean? Because Yoona had spent her childhood in Senior Command’s dungeon.

But Eomma didn’t look panicked or alarmed, and Grandma was smiling fondly at Yoona.

Dad still looked flummoxed.

Dr. Jo said, “Well, Minhyuk-ssi, you can check out of the hospital right away, but before you do I need you to schedule an assessment with a counselor and also an initial meeting with the sign language tutors, all right?”

Minhyuk nodded and made an _okay_ sign.

At _sign language,_ his mother started to cry again. 

Dad hugged her. 

Dr. Jo bowed and excused himself. 

Minhyuk was alive. His voice was gone. He hadn’t expected to survive that fight, so he was lucky. But he also felt hollow. What did he have to live for? He couldn’t rap. He couldn’t sing. His time with his team was over, so he’d never seen Myungjun again, never see his teammates again. He’d lived with Bin longer than he’d lived with Minseok. He’d be losing his second family.

Dr. Jo was right. He really did need to see a counselor. 

Before he could spiral downward further, the door opened. 

“Hyung!” 

Sanha was across the room first, wriggling up onto the bed beside him and almost pushing him _and_ Minseok off the bed. 

Jinwoo grabbed him by the collar and hauled him back off the bed. “Careful. He just woke up.”

“How are you feeling?” Bin asked gently. 

Minhyuk smiled and offered him the _okay_ sign. 

“About when will you get your voice back, do you think?” Dongmin asked. 

Eomma sobbed louder.

Jinwoo frowned. “Is it bad?”

“Of course it’s bad,” Sanha hissed, gesturing to Minhyuk’s mother. 

“Even if you can’t sing again, if you can talk, you can still rap, right?” Bin asked. 

Minhyuk pointed to his throat, then made an X sign with his arms. 

Grandma said, “Son-in-law, take Minah out for some fresh air. And Minseok, too. They’re probably hungry. Bring some food back for me, all right?”

Dad nodded and beckoned to Minseok, who plucked his phone delicately off of Minhyuk’s lap before he slid off the bed and went to cuddle with their mother and help steer her out of the room. 

Yoona flicked a glance at Bora and Bomi, and they immediately went to guard the door from the outside. Dongmin and Yoona both whistled the exact same spell at the same time, looked at each other. 

“What was that?” Sanha asked. 

“Privacy ward,” Yoona said. “Makes it hard for outsiders to eavesdrop. Warns us if anyone approaches the door.”

Minhyuk looked at Grandma. 

She patted his hand. “While you were asleep, your teammates and Yoona-ya told me everything.”

 _Everything?_ Minhyuk mouthed. 

“Of course. Your mother, Yoona-ya, Sanha-ssi, Jinwoo-ssi, Bin-ssi, and I all worked together to heal you, Dongmin-ssi, and Myungjun-ssi,” Grandma said. 

Myungjun lingered half behind Jinwoo’s shoulder. He looked completely unharmed. He wasn’t even wearing his cast. 

Minhyuk raised his eyebrows and pointed to Myungjun, then gestured to his own arm. 

“This is a different hospital than the one that treated you all last time,” Yoona said. “They didn’t realize Myungjun wasn’t ready to have his cast off quite yet after we healed him.”

So Myungjun had finally accepted healing from a song-sharer. Minhyuk was glad. He smiled and flashed Myungjun a thumbs up. 

Myungjun nodded. His expression was unreadable. 

Minhyuk pointed to Dongmin, raised his eyebrows. 

“I’m fully healed,” he said. 

Minhyuk smiled at him. Then he mimed being stabbed through the chest with a sword.

“Does your chest hurt?” Jinwoo asked. 

Minhyuk shook his head. He made a scribbling motion. Of course Dongmin had a notebook and pens with him. 

Minhyuk wrote his message, then held it up for the others to see. _What happened to the song-eater? I stabbed her with the sword._

“She’s dead,” Dongmin said. 

Minhyuk started to write another message, but Sanha held out his phone. Minhyuk sent a message to the team’s group chat. 

_Did Senior Command find out?_

Dongmin read the question aloud. 

Yoona said, “Senior Command is annoyed because you killed one of their most valuable assets.”

 _Assets?_ Minhyuk mouthed. 

“A rare form of song-eater who sides with her captors for privileges, like hunting indiscriminately, freedom of movement, and more. It never lasts long, because they’re easy to spot. Chances are any true song-eaters Dongmin killed were assets who were getting out of control anyway.” Yoona tossed her head. She had such long hair, and it always looked perfectly glossy. 

Minhyuk was probably panicking inside if he was focusing on her hair to keep himself present in this conversation. He nodded. He typed another question. 

_Does Senior Command know Dongmin is no longer loyal to them?_

Dongmin shook his head. “No. As far as they know, I was protecting my team’s main vocalist from a rogue song-eater.”

Minhyuk nodded. Keeping all these lies straight was so complicated. _What about the song-eater who killed Myungjun’s sister?_

“That song-eater would have been a similar asset,” Yoona said. “Whether she was the one you killed or one killed by someone else, we may never know, not without access to Senior Command’s master ledgers.”

Dongmin set his jaw. 

_What about Manager and the company?_ Minhyuk asked. 

“There’s talk of just five of us performing in the concerts,” Jinwoo said. “We were waiting for you to wake up to see what we should do.”

Minhyuk went to ask what day it was, that the concerts were even still an option, then looked at the date on Sanha’s phone. It had only been two days since the attack. There was still a week till the virtual festival, a week and a half till the virtual concert. 

Minhyuk tapped at Sanha’s phone some more. _But what do they think happened?_

Yoona said, “As far as they know, Myungjun received and read a detailed report on his sister’s attack and became very upset. He went to visit some of the places he used to go with his sister to receive some comfort, and the song-eater who killed her followed him and attacked him. His plan to become famous enough for the song-eater to hear his voice and be tempted worked. The rest of you managed to get there just in time to save him and kill the song-eater. The song-eater was old and powerful and it took both Dongmin and Minhyuk together to kill her, but they managed it. Minhyuk sacrificed his voice in the process. Of course, your company thinks the loss is temporary.”

Minhyuk nodded. It was a clever story. He looked at Dongmin. _How do we “know” it was the song-eater who killed Myungsoon?_

“Villain monologue,” Dongmin said. “She taunted Myungjun before she tried to kill him.”

“I told Manager and the Songbirds about it,” Myungjun said quietly. He cleared his throat. “You never really answered Bin’s question. Will you at least be able to rap again?”

Minhyuk shook his head. He gestured to Yoona politely, then made a snapping motion to indicate the snapping point of a voice stolen by a song-eater. He didn’t want to have to explain it again.

It was Grandma who said, “His voice is gone permanently. He’ll never speak again. He can whisper and whistle still, of course, because those don’t require use of the vocal cords the same way, mostly the movement of air.”

“Are you sure?” Myungjun pressed. “That it’s really permanent? If you can cure cancer -”

“The loss of one’s voice to a song-eater is magical as much as it is physiological,” Grandma said. “Minhyukie says he felt the moment his voice was lost forever. He’s sure.”

Myungjun brought his hand to his throat. “You could feel it?”

Minhyuk nodded. 

Myungjun curled his hands into fists. “Why did you do it? You need your voice just as much as I do.”

Minhyuk glanced at Grandma, then Yoona. Yoona didn’t know _everything_ about the team, so she couldn’t have told Grandma. Unless Dongmin had told Yoona?

“Park Minhyuk. Answer me.” Myungjun’s voice was tight. 

Minhyuk sucked in a breath, then whistled part of the chorus of one of their ballads, the part where the lyrics were _Because it’s you._

Myungjun looked confused. “I don’t know that spell.”

Minhyuk whistled the tune again.

“It’s a song,” Sanha said. “One of our songs.”

Minhyuk whistled a third time, saw the moment when Myungjun understood.

“That doesn’t make any sense. That’s not an answer.” Myungjun’s eyes were fever-bright, but his expression was still unreadable. 

Minhyuk whistled part of another song. Since it was their most recent one, there was a chance Grandma might understand what he was trying to say. Yoona would. She was in the music video, after all. 

_I love you so much._

Myungjun shook his head. “No. You can’t mean that.”

Minhyuk threw his hands up, frustrated. He whistled a line from an older song, one of their oldest songs. 

_You are my first love, eternal love_

Myungjun shook his head. “No. No. I’m not - why would you _do that?”_ He buried his face in his hands and burst into tears. 

Jinwoo turned to him and put his arms around him. Myungjun shoved him away and stumbled toward the corner, caught himself against the wall. 

“Oh dear,” Grandma said. “I don’t really know what happened, but this isn’t good.”

Yoona looked at Minhyuk, her expression sympathetic. “I didn’t know. This entire situation must have been very difficult. For both of you.”

“No one knew, besides our team and our staff,” Jinwoo said. 

Minhyuk flung the covers aside and hopped off the bed. He hurried over to Myungjun and tapped him on the shoulder. 

Myungjun flung a hand at him to swat him away, but he dodged and caught Myungjun’s wrist, tugged Myungjun around to face him. Myungjun turned his face away, still sobbing. Minhyuk reached out and brushed Myungjun’s tears away. 

Myungjun cried harder. 

Minhyuk gathered Myungjun into his arms and just held him, rocking him gently. 

Grandma lifted her hand to her mouth. “Oh my! I knew Minhyukie likes boys, but…”

Yoona and Dongmin said at the same time, “Someone’s coming.”

There was a knock at the door. It was someone safe.

Myungjun was still crying. Dongmin, Bin, Sanha, and Jinwoo shifted so they were blocking Minhyuk and Myungjun from the view from the doorway. Dongmin and Yoona dispelled the ward on the door, and it slid open.

“Mother-in-law, we brought you some food,” Dad said.

“Where’s Minhyuk?” Eomma demanded.

“He’s there,” Grandma said.

Minhyuk heard the door slide shut. 

The others shifted.

Eomma shoved the bags of food into Minseok’s arms and marched across the room. She wrenched Minhyuk away from Myungjun and dragged Minhyuk behind her.

Minhyuk protested soundlessly.

“You stay away from my son,” she snarled. “It’s your fault his voice is gone! If you hadn’t been so reckless and selfish, none of this would have happened!”

Myungjun started crying harder.

Minhyuk wriggled free of his mother’s grasp and darted around her, gathered Myungjun into his arms and held him close, stroking his hair. Myungjun buried his face against Minhyuk’s neck, his entire body wracked with sobs.

“Minah,” Grandma said, “he already feels quite terrible about what happened.”

“He should,” Eomma snapped. “Just because I helped -” She cut herself off, because Dad and Minseok were still present.

Minhyuk wished, desperately, that he could say something, or even just hum a soft song to comfort Myungjun. He began to whistle, softly, the same song he’d whistled before, wishing he could sing to Myungjun instead.

_What comforts me_

_What wraps around me when I’m in pain_

_Is all you, it’s you, it’s you_

_I’m thankful every day_

_What makes me smile again_

_What makes me happy day by day_

_Is all you, it’s you, it’s you_

“Heol,” Minseok said. “Eomma, I think they’re boyfriends.”

Eomma closed her eyes. “Ah, Minhyukie. What were you thinking, dating a teammate?” _Dating someone who hates our kind?_ was what she really meant.

Bin said, “Minhyuk says he’s been in love with Myungjun-hyung since before we debuted.”

Eomma looked pained. “I’m still incredibly upset at you, Myungjun-ssi. But - what’s done is done, and I know my son would do it all over again.”

Dad cleared his throat. “We should eat this food before it gets cold.”

Minseok nodded and set the bags of food down on a nearby table.

Yoona started for the door. “I’m glad you’re feeling better, cousin. I’ll be going first.” She bowed and departed, no doubt taking Bomi and Bora with her.

Dongmin, ever the courteous one, helped distribute the food, and he took a share to Grandma.

Minhyuk guided Myungjun back over to the bed with him and climbed up, helped Myungjun up beside him. Myungjun was still sniffling. Bin handed him a box of tissues.

“I contacted Manager,” Jinwoo said. “He says he can be here in the next twenty minutes.”

Minhyuk shook his head. He started to mouth words, then sighed. Minseok surrendered his phone wordlessly. 

Minhyuk typed, _Tell him to meet us back at the dorm. I’ll eat, I’ll schedule my follow-up appointments, and we can talk back at the dorm._

Jinwoo nodded. “That’s fair. I’ll tell him.”

Myungjun declined any offers of food, stayed huddled close to Minhyuk while Minhyuk ate one-handed, his other arm still around Myungjun’s shoulders. Eomma glared at Myungjun throughout the entire meal, but she managed to make pleasant conversation with everyone else.

Everyone except Dongmin. Now that she knew Dongmin was a Songbird.

Grandma was still kind to him, and for that, Minhyuk was grateful. Dongmin had probably been the most burdened by the situation they were in.

Just as they finished eating, a nurse arrived to help Minhyuk schedule an assessment with a mental health counselor and an intake appointment with a sign language tutor. After the nurse departed, Eomma sent Dad and Minseok to throw away the debris from lunch and also get fresh clothes from the car for Minhyuk to change into before he headed back to the dorm. He didn’t ask what had happened to the clothes he’d been wearing before.

Manager was bringing Minhyuk a new phone to tide him over, till he - and his family and closest friends - learned some sign language.

As soon as the door was closed behind Dad and Minseok, Myungjun cleared his throat.

“Eomoni,” he said he said to Minhyuk’s mother, “is there really no way to save his voice? If I shared my voice with you to heal him, maybe?”

Eomma didn’t meet his gaze, didn’t say anything.

Grandma answered. “Unfortunately, child, his voice is gone forever.”

Myungjun bit his lip and nodded. 

It was Sanha who said, “Are there books about song-sharer magic?”

“Very few, and very difficult to read,” Grandma said. “We preserve them in case of emergencies, but all the lore is passed down from parent to child.”

 _Not all of it,_ Minhyuk thought. Maybe all the magic, but not all the history, the truth of song-sharers and Songbirds.

“Why are they difficult to read?” Bin asked.

“Because they’re in an obscure dialect of Classical Greek.” Grandma smiled sadly.

Dongmin said, “I can read Greek.”

Jinwoo stared at him. “Of course you can.”

“Songbirds are required to be able to read original texts,” Dongmin said, like he was reciting something. He probably was. He knelt beside Grandma. “Maybe there’s something in there, something obscure that no one bothers with because it’s only ever used in extenuating circumstances that almost never happen. It couldn’t hurt to try.”

Grandma glanced at Myungjun as she patted Dongmin’s hand. “Yes, my child, it can.”

He nodded and rose up.

Dad and Minseok returned, and it was time to go.

Out in front of the hospital, Minhyuk bade his family farewell. A company van was waiting to take him and his teammates back to the dorm.

“When things have settled down - when your mother has settled down - bring your Myungjun-hyung home for a proper dinner, all right?” Dad said in a low voice.

Minhyuk nodded, terribly grateful.

Minseok hugged him fiercely. “He better be the bestest boyfriend ever after this.”

Minhyuk hugged his brother back, ruffled his hair. 

Grandma hugged him and kissed his forehead and pinched his cheeks before letting him go.

Eomma almost didn’t let him go. When Dad finally managed to convince her to step back, she brushed Minhyuk’s hair back from his face.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

Only he knew what she meant. She was sorry that she’d encouraged him to become an idol. She was sorry she’d been glad he liked boys. She was sorry she’d taught him that to share his voice for someone else was the ultimate act of love.

He shook his head and mouthed, _Don’t be._

Then he let Jinwoo and Bin steer him into the company van.

Sanha and Minhyuk climbed into the very back so Myungjun could sit between them and cuddle close. The ride back to the dorm was more or less silent. Myungjun, Minhyuk, and Sanha drowsed on each other.

Minhyuk had missed being next to Myungjun like this, thought he’d never get to do it again. Minhyuk didn’t think too hard about whether this meant they were back together or Myungjun was just seeking temporary comfort till he felt emotionally stable again, because his voice was gone forever, and his time with Myungjun was limited.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know what Minhyuk's little brother's name is IRL but I like generation names and we left reality a long time ago when Eunwoo's mother became a genocidal villain, okay?
> 
> Communication songs:
> 
> [Because It's You](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8wlG8udxbG4)
> 
> [No, Don't](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vfpqUH6TM0Q)
> 
> [Innocent Love](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Woqa9sTTzyU) \- "You are my first love, eternal love" is MJ's line from the bridge around the 2:40 mark right before Rocky hits his high note


	24. Chapter 24

[ ](https://imgfly.me/i/Xktfxq)

Back at the dorm, they’d just settled in when Manager arrived. 

He declined Jinwoo’s offer of food or a drink and sat in the armchair. Sanha, Myungjun, and Minhyuk crammed onto the loveseat together, leaving Bin, Dongmin, and Jinwoo on the sofa. 

Manager handed Minhyuk a brand new phone, and he set to downloading a messaging app while Manager checked in with Dongmin and Myungjun about how they were feeling. If he noticed that Myungjun no longer had a cast on his arm, he said nothing about it.

Minhyuk flashed Manager the  _ okay _ sign once he was logged in to the team group chat that Manager was also in, and Manager nodded.

“As it stands,” Manager said, “I can’t speak for the company about what their legal position is, as far as everything that’s gone on. You were all supposed to stay put with security, and instead one of you took off and the rest of you followed and you dismissed one of your bodyguards as you did so, and you didn’t wait for your specially-trained bodyguard to catch up to you before you put yourselves in danger, and as a result, one of you will be unable to perform at two upcoming concerts.”

He spoke calmly, evenly.

Minhyuk’s chest tightened. When he’d heard about how those other companies had treated the boys who’d been attacked and rendered unable to continue as idols, it had sounded ludicrously unfair, but this situation was different. A hand curled through his, and he started. When he looked down, Myungjun’s small, delicate, pretty little hand was entwined with his.

Myungjun glanced at him, gaze sorrowful, and squeezed.

Dongmin said, coolly, “Seolwoo wasn’t qualified to handle a song-eater attack. He was hired because we were previously attacked by human antis, and sending him away was the appropriate step to take and a judgment call I made as a Songbird, not as an idol. Also, my decision to pursue Myungjun and do my best to protect him was one I also made as a Songbird. I’m sure you were informed by Senior Command that despite the inherent difficulties I face as a male, I’m still a superior Songbird, even to Bora-ssi, who is a very respectable Songbird in her own right.”

Manager nodded. “Right. Of course. But you.” He looked at Minhyuk. “You’re not a Songbird.”

Minhyuk nodded meekly.

“But looking at how close you two are sitting now, I suppose the reason you jumped into a fight between a high-level Songbird and a very dangerous song-eater who’s been hunting one of your teammates is quite obvious.” Manager sighed and rubbed his forehead. “When will your voice come back, and to what extent?”

Minhyuk bit his lip. He tapped out a message.  _ My voice is gone forever. _

Manager looked at his phone, did a double take.  _ “What?” _

Minhyuk typed,  _ She took it completely. I’ll never speak again. Before I left the hospital I had to sign up for mental health counseling and sign language classes. _

Manager stared at him. “You - what? How are you just sitting there so calmly? Your voice is gone forever? You’ll take sign language classes? That’s it? Minhyuk-ah, your life is over.”

_ My life isn’t over. My career as an idol is over, but I’m still alive. I’m not like Jaeseon-sunbae. I’m not like Noh Romi. I’m still here. _

“Am I really hearing this? No, I’m not really hearing this.” Manager shook his phone. “Am I really  _ seeing _ this?”

The others, who’d been tracking the conversation on their own phones, winced.

Myungjun buried his face against Minhyuk’s shoulder and sighed wetly.

Minhyuk kept typing.  _ Sanha can take my place on the dance line. He’s proven himself again and again. Bin-hyung can take over any rap parts Jinwoo-hyung can’t cover, but Jinwoo will have more lines, and fans will like that. _

Manager stared at his phone. “You - did you think this all out before you decided to take on the song-eater?”

Minhyuk had thought through all of this many times over the years. Instead he typed out,  _ They say your entire life flashes before your eyes when you think you’re going to die. It’s not exactly accurate. _

Manager buried his face in his hands and made a wordless sound of frustration. The others flinched. Minhyuk didn’t type anything further, since Manager deserved a moment to process. Finally, Manager peered between his fingers at Minhyuk.

“Who are you and what have you done with Park Minhyuk? Did nearly dying turn you into some kind of Buddha? Are you going to ascend to Nirvana before our eyes? No one should be this calm about their entire life falling apart.” Manager straightened up. “Or is it because you two are back together now?”

Minhyuk typed,  _ I don’t know if we’re back together or not. That’s not what this is about. _

Myungjun turned to him. “Minhyukie, you nearly died for me. I know I pushed you away, but -”

“Please. Spare me. Spare all of us.” Manager sighed and closed his eyes, rubbed his forehead once more. Then he looked at Minhyuk. “So you’re saying you’re leaving the team?”

_ Do I have a choice? _

“If your voice is gone permanently, no.”

“There might be a cure,” Dongmin said.

Minhyuk whipped around to stare at him, mouthing,  _ What? _

“I’d have to do some research. I have access to some books at the Songbird Senior Command central archives,” Dongmin said. “But it would take time.”

“You don’t have a lot of time,” Manager said. 

Jinwoo cleared his throat. “What’s the company saying? Where are we on official statements? They’ve managed to keep press coverage to a minimum, but of course rumors are flying.”

“The company is waiting on more information from Minhyuk before they release an official statement,” Manager said. 

_ What’s the official statement now? _ Minhyuk asked.

“A second song-eater attack in which three of us suffered minor injuries,” Dongmin said.

Sanha said, “People are saying our team is cursed.”

“Other people are saying our team is being targeted because now song-eaters know Dongmin is a Songbird,” Bin added.

Jinwoo said, “We should be clear and concise in the official statement - the song-eater who killed Myungjun’s sister targeted him because his voice sounds like hers, and Dongmin did his Songbird duty to protect him, and Minhyuk ended up stepping in as well, as the most-trained martial artist on the team. Minhyuk sacrificed his voice to distract the song-eater from killing Myungjun.”

He glanced at the others to check with them for their consensus.

Manager nodded. “And what about Minhyuk? His voice loss is permanent, and he’s leaving the team?”

“There’s still a chance,” Dongmin said. “That he could be cured.” He cast Minhyuk a look.

Minhyuk was pretty sure there was no chance, and his grandmother wouldn’t give Dongmin any song-sharer books just to test the theory. He tapped out another message.  _ Wait until the concerts are finished, so the fans aren’t sad. It’ll give me time to pack up my things and make some arrangements. _

“Pack your things?” Sanha demanded.

_ I can’t stay in the dorm if I’m not on the team, _ Minhyuk typed.

Manager looked first at Dongmin, then Minhyuk. “You have ten days to see if he can be cured or not. After that the company might keep you on as a dancer or choreographer. You’re too talented to just leave the industry altogether. Although I’d understand if you didn’t want to stay.”

Because it would be too hard, to just be a choreographer or a dancer, to be on the sidelines while everyone else went out on stage and performed.

Minhyuk nodded. Ten days. That wasn’t very long, but it was a far cry from what he’d imagined for himself in the past, when he’d worried about what would happen if his teammates found out what he was.

“Ten days,” Jinwoo said.

Myungjun squeezed Minhyuk’s arm.

Manager swept his gaze over Myungjun and Dongmin. “The three of you are looking quite healthy and whole, for needing two days of hospitalization.”

Dongmin said coolly, “Noona made sure we received the best medical care, the kind usually reserved for top-tier Songbirds.”

Manager nodded. “It’s good to be connected.” He rose to his feet. “I’ll see myself out. I’ll see you all at the company first thing in the morning.”

They all nodded and bowed.

As soon as the door closed behind him, Jinwoo sank back against the sofa, head tipped back, staring at the ceiling. “This feels so unreal.”

“So...are you two back together?” Bin asked.

Minhyuk looked down at Myungjun, whose face was still pale and drawn. Minhyuk looked at Bin and shrugged one shoulder.

“We should leave them to talk,” Dongmin said.

Jinwoo peeled himself off the couch and dug his phone out of his pocket. He headed straight for the balcony; he was calling Nayoung. Bin rose and offered a hand to Dongmin, and they tugged Sanha to his feet and headed for the three-person room.

Myungjun said, “No, don’t be all cramped in there. You can stay here and be comfortable. We’ll go to my room.” He rose slowly.

Minhyuk followed him into the bedroom. He hadn’t set foot in here once since Myungjun had moved out of their shared room.

Myungjun sank down on the bed, patted the space beside him, so Minhyuk sat next to him.

“I know it’s utterly shameless of me to want you back just because you sacrificed so much for me, but - I’ve missed you.” Myungjun spoke in a careful, measured tone.

Minhyuk mouthed,  _ I know. _

Myungjun bit his lip. “Was it that obvious?”

Minhyuk mouthed,  _ You told me. _

“When?”

Minhyuk mimed drinking.

Realization crossed Myungjun’s face. “Oh, Minhyukie, what happened?”

Minhyuk mimed drinking again, shrugged.

“I got drunk and told you? When I crawled into bed with you.” Myungjun narrowed his eyes. “What else happened?”

Minhyuk shrugged again, avoiding his gaze.

“That can’t have been all that happened. Look at me.”

Minhyuk tapped his own lips.

Myungjun raised his eyebrows. “You kissed me?”

Minhyuk shook his head.

“I kissed you.”

Minhyuk nodded.

“And then I didn’t remember in the morning.”

Minhyuk shrugged again.

“Minhyukie, I’m so sorry.” Myungjun sighed and shook his head. “What else happened?”

Minhyuk considered how best to mime what Myungjun had told him, because he was tired of texting. 

Myungjun reached out, tapped his wrist. “Use your phone. I don’t mind.”

But Minhyuk held his hand out.

Myungjun frowned. “You want my phone?”

Minhyuk grasped Myungjun’s wrist gently, asking permission. 

“You want my...hand?”

Minhyuk used his fingertip to write on Myungjun’s palm.  _ Is this all right? _

Myungjun nodded. “I can understand just fine.”

Minhyuk wrote some more.  _ You told me that even though we love each other, we could never be together. _

Myungjun sighed and closed his eyes for a moment. “Did I say why?”

Minhyuk did his best to recount what Myungjun had told him, the memory painfully clear.

“I did sincerely feel that way, but now - I’ve had two days to think about things. Dongmin-ah confirmed that what my mother told me is true, and I think I understand better just how insidious Senior Command is - and how much you and many of your kind have suffered for so long.” Myungjun patted Minhyuk’s wrist gently. “All the hate and blame I felt before is...gone. My sister didn’t die because some greedy monster killed her. My sister died because - because my mother was afraid to die and Songbird Senior Command made her pay a hideous price.”

Minhyuk mouthed,  _ I’m sorry. _

“It’s not your fault.”

Minhyuk wrote on the bare skin of Myungjun’s forearm with his fingertip.  _ I know, but I’m sorry you lost her and that it hurt. _

“You’ve been nothing but good to me through all of this, and I’ve been selfish and blinded by my own pain. You and Dongmin have both been suffering, and I’ve only cared about myself, and your mother’s right. I nearly got you killed, and it’s my fault your voice is gone, and -” Myungjun cut himself off. “I nearly lost you, and I realized how stupid I was to push you away. If you’ll give me a second chance, I’ll -”

He started laughing. He sounded a little hysterical.

Minhyuk put a hand on his shoulder.  _ Are you okay? _

“I’ve never had this kind of conversation before, and the only words I know are words from our songs.” Myungjun shook his head. “How pathetic is that? You were willing to give your life for me and all I have for you is words from pop songs.”

Minhyuk tugged on Myungjun’s shoulder, and Myungjun leaned in.

Minhyuk leaned in and whispered in his ear, “If you still want me, I’m yours.”

Myungjun kissed him.

It felt like coming home.

Minhyuk wound his arms around Myungjun’s neck and pulled him close, parted his lips and lay back, let Myungjun take over. It seemed like it had been forever since they’d been together like this, and Minhyuk hadn’t realized how much he’d missed it. The kiss was soft and slow and sweet, little presses of their lips again and again, but then heat began to build as Myungjun danced his fingertips along the hem of Minhyuk’s shirt, teasing the skin there.

“I know it’s been a while, but is this all right?”

Minhyuk nodded and leaned in to capture Myungjun’s mouth again, desperate for another taste. 

Myungjun pulled back. “Minhyukie, you have to tell me -”

Minhyuk rolled his eyes and peeled off his shirt, tossed it to the floor. Then he pulled Myungjun down on top of him again and tried to kiss him.

“Wait,” Myungjun said. “How will I know if something is all right? If you can’t speak.”

Minhyuk sighed and flopped back, frustrated, but Myungjun was right. He thought quickly, drumming his fingers on his thigh. Then he reached out and caught Myungjun’s hand. He wrote  _ yes _ on his palm and tapped twice, then  _ no _ and tapped three times, raised his eyebrows.

“Two for yes, three for no?”

Minhyuk nodded.

“Okay,” Myungjun said. “I can remember that.” He sighed. “Minhyukie, what if there is no cure? If your voice is gone forever, this is all my fault.”

Minhyuk shook his head.  _ No. Don’t say that. _ He leaned in and kissed Myungjun. All that mattered was that Myungjun was still alive. They were both still alive. Minhyuk could still remember how battered and broken Myungjun and Dongmin had both been, and -

He started to cry.

“I know. This is all my fault. I’m so sorry,” Myungjun said again.

Minhyuk shook his head. He caught Myungjun’s wrist and wrote on his palm with a shaking hand.  _ No. I don’t blame you. I’m so glad you’re alive. You and Dongmin almost died. I almost lost you both. I couldn’t lose you. _

But he would lose them, now that his voice was gone. They’d still be alive, but he’d be cut off from them just as if they were dead. Unless he could stomach staying on with the company anyway. 

“I’m still here,” Myungjun said. “Dongmin’s still here. We’re both still here. We’re not going anywhere.” He gathered Minhyuk into his arms and held him tightly, and they cried together.

By the time they were done crying, they were both worn out, so they curled up on the bed together and drowsed until someone knocked on the door.

“Hey, are you hungry? We were going to order some food.” It was Sanha.

“You hungry?” Myungjun asked.

Minhyuk considered, tapped him twice on the arm.

“We’ll be right there,” Myungjun said, and sat up. He helped Minhyuk up, and he grabbed Minhyuk’s shirt, helped him pull it back on, and they padded out to the den.

The others were gathered around the coffee table where Dongmin was decimating Jinwoo at a game of baduk.

“Are you all right?” Bin asked.

Minhyuk nodded. It was probably obvious that they’d both been crying, but Bin didn’t ask further.

“What are you hungry for?” Jinwoo asked.

Minhyuk considered, then whistled a tune they all knew.

Dongmin shook his head. “Of course you want kimbap. What about you, hyung?”

“Whatever everyone else wants is fine.” Myungjun shrugged.

Sanha was sitting beside Dongmin, chin on his shoulder, studying the game board. “Tteokbokki.”

“Kimchi fried rice,” Bin said.

Dongmin said, “Suddenly I really want pizza.”

Jinwoo’s expression turned dreamy. “Pizza.”

They had two concerts coming up. They should be watching their weight. But pizza did sound really delicious.

Minhyuk whistled the old jingle for Mr. Pizza, which made Dongmin and Bin groan, but Myungjun said, “Minhyuk wants pizza too. We should get pizza.”

“I’ve heard there are some languages that are entirely whistling,” Sanha said. “Maybe you could use one of them and skip sign language.”

“But who else would be able to understand him, besides us?” Jinwoo asked. “Unless someone knew every single CF we’ve done, and all of our songs.”

“Our fans, probably,” Sanha said, after a moment’s thought.

“Yeah, but - not even his family,” Bin said softly.

Sanha sobered when he remembered just how long Bin and Minhyuk had been trainees.

“Pizza it is,” Jinwoo said. He fished his phone out of his pocket. “What toppings do we want?”

During the discussion that ensued about how many pizzas and what kind, Minhyuk curled up on the loveseat and closed his eyes. What was he going to do with this next ten days? Who could he turn to for advice? Should he just enlist? Could he even enlist without a voice? 

“You all right?” Myungjun asked, curling his hand through Minhyuk’s.

Minhyuk smiled and tapped Myungjun’s wrist twice without opening his eyes. A moment later, Myungjun settled onto the loveseat beside him.

“What should we do till the pizza arrives?” Jinwoo asked.

“We’re playing a game,” Dongmin said.

“Yeah, but he knows he’s going to lose, and also we need this table to eat on anyways,” Sanha said.

Jinwoo spluttered. “Yah!”

“You are losing though,” Bin said.

“Is no one on my side? But yes, we do need this table to eat on. Let’s clean up and - we can play video games or something.” Jinwoo sounded decisive.

“Because you know you can win at video games,” Sanha said.

Minhyuk laughed silently. Sanha’s savageness knew no bounds, even when the cameras weren’t on them.

“If we play video games, Myungjun will defeat us all, because Minhyuk will cheer for him and only him, without a shred of team or friendship loyalty,” Jinwoo said. “I’ve seen it.”

“No,” Dongmin said quietly. “He won’t.”

A heavy silence fell over the room. Minhyuk opened his eyes. Dongmin swatted Jinwoo on the arm. Jinwoo ducked his head. With a sigh, Minhyuk wriggled out from beside Myungjun. He headed into his bedroom and poked around until he found a notebook and some pens, and then he came back into the den. 

“What are you doing?” Sanha asked.

Minhyuk flipped to a blank page and set about working diligently, hunched over the notebook so the others couldn’t see. Behind him, the others shifted nervously, whispering to each other. When he was finished, he straightened up and held up the notebook so they could see.

“What the -?” Bin peered, and then he burst out laughing.

“You made a sign,” Jinwoo said.

Myungjun took it from him and inspected it, pleased. Minhyuk had written Myungjun’s name in large, bright letters and decorated it with hearts and suns and flowers and also some ducks.

“I guess this means we’re playing video games,” Dongmin said.

Sanha cheered and went to set up the television and the laptops and controllers.

As soon as the game was up and running, the others crammed onto the couch and loveseat, and they started playing that new racing game in earnest. Minhyuk sat at Myungjun’s feet, and whenever Myungjun made another lap he’d wave his sign and let out a wolf whistle. The first time he whistled he startled Dongmin so badly that he drove his cart off the track, which allowed the others to zoom past him.

They were well into their racing tournament - Sanha, Jinwoo, and Myungjun in a fierce competition for first place - when the apartment buzzer rang.

Dongmin answered it since he was losing anyway. “Hello?”

“Pizza delivery,” a man said.

Dongmin buzzed him in. Sanha and Bin packed away the laptops and gaming supplies while Bin and Dongmin set the table for dinner. Where Minhyuk and Jinwoo were the least recognizable members of the team, they tended to answer the door just to be safe.

When someone knocked on the door, Jinwoo went to answer and pay - since he could talk - and Minhyuk hovered behind him to help carry the pizza boxes.

Only when Jinwoo opened the door and said, “Hello,” a woman said, 

“Good evening, Jinwoo-ssi.”

Minhyuk yanked Jinwoo behind him without even thinking, banging him against the narrow foyer wall in the process, before he recognized the woman’s voice.

“Ow,” Jinwoo said, and then, “Yoona-sunbaenim. Please, come in. Quickly. Because it will be such a scandal if someone sees you.”

Would anyone believe that the woman in gray sweats and a dark blue hoodie was Yoona? But she stepped into their apartment carrying actual pizza boxes.

“How did you get in here?” Jinwoo asked.

Minhyuk nudged a pair of house slippers toward her, the smallest ones he could find of the ones set aside for guests, usually someone’s mother.

“I just told the pizza delivery man that I would bring the pizzas up to you since we’re friends and I was here for the pizza party,” she said.

“How do you even know where we live?” Jinwoo stared at her.

“It’s in the Songbird central database.”

_ Database, _ Jinwoo mouthed.

“Sunbaenim!” Sanha cried, on his feet.

“Noona.” Dongmin was wide-eyed. “What are you doing here?”

“She brought us our pizza,” Jinwoo said.

Minhyuk whistled softly, the  _ Hello, it’s me _ signal his mother had taught him in case he ever had to hide from Songbirds during a raid and she had to come find him after. 

Yoona turned to him. 

Minhyuk mimed drinking politely. 

“Ah, yes, a drink would be lovely, thank you.” Yoona smiled and crossed the den and perched prettily in the armchair. 

Minhyuk headed over to the fridge and found a bottle of water and a can of cider, held up both for her to see. She requested water. 

“Noona?” Dongmin asked again. 

Sanha was doing his best to subtly dig into the pizza boxes. 

“Please, eat, I’m sure you’re hungry.” Yoona smiled pleasantly. “I’m here for a number of reasons. First of all, I’m here to make Minhyuk-ah an offer.”

Minhyuk pointed to himself, surprised. What could he possibly do for her? 

“I’ve spoken to some people at your company, as well as some other choreographers I respect and admire, and I would be interested in taking you on as my personal choreographer. Of course, you would have first rights in being in performances that called for male dancers.”

That was an incredible offer. Minhyuk felt his throat tighten. He would never get a better offer than that anywhere else in the industry. If he accepted her offer, even for a few years, he could be set for life. He could open his own dance studio and teach and choreograph for other artists after that. The possibilities were endless. 

He mouthed  _ Thank you  _ and bowed deeply. 

Myungjun squeezed his arm and smiled at him. 

“I have another offer for you, though. One you shouldn’t feel at all pressured to take, but one for you to consider.” Yoona’s expression sobered. 

Bin set down the slice of pizza he’d been about to bite into. 

“Senior Command is getting ready to make its move. Dongmin will be their poster boy. We’ll make our move first, and when Dongmin turns on them, all attention will be on him, so we need someone else on the inside, someone no one will suspect,” Yoona said. “They’re going to recruit a cohort of boys, and you’re perfect. You’ve been victimized by a song-eater. You have Songbird magic. You have martial arts training.”

Minhyuk whistled a song-sharer melody, the  _ mother loves you  _ lullaby. 

Yoona frowned. “What about your mother?”

Jinwoo and Myungjun exchanged confused looks. 

Dongmin said, “The first time we were attacked, at the hospital, Minhyuk’s mother sang him a song-sharer lullaby to comfort him, and my mother recognized it. Minhyuk’s mother managed a passable lie about having Songbirds in her distant family, but my mother is suspicious of Minhyuk’s mother. If he were to join any kind of Songbird program, they’d vet him, and if his mother’s story didn’t hold up, it would be bad.”

Yoona said, “You remember I called you cousin?”

Minhyuk nodded.

Jinwoo said, “Because both of your mothers are song-sharers.”

“Well, yes, but - when I first escaped from Senior Command, it was Minhyuk’s mother and grandmother who took me in. Before Aunt Minah was married, they took me in and cared for me. She helped me become an idol trainee, and she helped me enter Songbird training so I could avenge my mother. How do you think she knew how to prepare you for the idol life, how to dress well and care for your skin, the kinds of dance lessons and martial arts to take?” Yoona looked at Minhyuk.

He thought of how fondly Grandma had looked at Yoona, how Grandma had trusted everything Yoona had told her about what was going on with Minhyuk and his team.

“Your mother’s aunt really was a Songbird,” Yoona said. “I am not the first of my kind to become a Songbird seeking retribution or justice for song-sharers.”

So if Minhyuk did join up as a new boy Songbird recruit, he’d pass a background check. But there was still a problem. He whistled softly, the spell to light a fire.

Yoona looked confused.

Dongmin said, “Even if he did pass the background check, he would be discovered as soon as he entered training, because the silver weapons would burn him.”

“Ah. Fire. Burn.” Yoona eyed Minhyuk. “You would have to find a new way to communicate or you’ll be caught out immediately.”

Minhyuk whistled the chorus and main riff of BTS’s Fire, and Bin laughed, startled.

“He’ll have to learn sign language,” Myungjun said quietly.

“But the weapons,” Sanha said. “How would he get past that?”

“Silver isn’t inherently harmful to song-sharers, it’s the spells on the weapons, and even then only one set of spells. As long as he was given the right kind of weapons, he could wield them. They would still cut as needed,” Yoona said.

If Minhyuk were to engage in battle, he could mimic the burning effect of the weapons with magic if he had to.

What was he thinking? Would he actually do what Yoona suggested?

“This sounds very complicated,” Jinwoo said. “Besides, if Dongmin is revealed as a double agent, why wouldn’t the rest of Senior Command immediately suspect Minhyuk? He’d be in danger then.”

“By then it will be too late. He’ll have done what needs to be done,” Yoona said. 

Myungjun curled his hand around Minhyuk’s wrist. “That sounds dangerous. He’s already done enough as it is.”

“It’s no more dangerous than what Dongmin is already doing,” Yoona said. “And Minhyuk has certain advantages that Dongmin does not.”

The others darted a glance at Dongmin, who merely nibbled on a slice of pizza.

“Just something to think about,” Yoona said. She sipped at her bottled water. “And one more thing. I heard you asked Grandmother if there’s any possible cure for Minhyuk’s voice.”

Immediately all their attention was back on her.

“The direct giving of one voice to another can cure anything short of death,” Yoona said. “But only if the giver is a song-sharer.”

“What does that mean?” Myungjun asked, his grip on Minhyuk’s wrist so tight it would probably bruise, but Minhyuk wouldn’t have made a sound even if he could.

“Instead of a song-sharer taking a song from another and giving it, they would simply give their own voice,” Yoona said. She drank some more water.

Dongmin frowned. “I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

“Of course not,” Yoona said. “But there’s a reason song-sharers teach their children, once they’re old enough, that to share their voice for someone else is the ultimate act of love.”

Minhyuk frowned. His mother had taught him that, but that wasn’t what she’d meant, best as he could tell. 

“How much of their own voice would they have to give?” Bin asked.

Yoona shrugged. “Depends on the nature of the injury, of course. Something like a total voice loss, just short of death, would probably require a lot of energy.”

“But it would have to be done by a song-sharer, right?” Sanha said. “Not just someone with song-sharer blood.”

Yoona nodded. “Of course. Only song-sharers have the magic of taking and giving song.” She finished the water bottle and rose. “Think about my offer, Minhyuk-ah. No need to rush.”

He nodded and rose, showed her to the door.

While she was putting on her shoes, she said, “There’s another option for you. Darker. More dangerous. But far more effective in this fight. If you’re willing and unafraid.” She glanced at him briefly. “Let me know if you want details.”

He nodded and bowed, opened the door for her, waved farewell.

“The choreography gig is a really great offer,” Bin said as soon as Minhyuk sat down.

“Really great,” Myungjun added. “But wait to see what the company has to say tomorrow.”

Minhyuk nodded and picked at his pizza.

After supper, they watched an episode of a drama together, and then it was time to sleep, because the day started early tomorrow, and the others had a long day, preparing for the concerts. By some unspoken agreement, Myungjun would be sleeping with Minhyuk in the double room with the two beds pushed together, but no one made any move to switch his and Dongmin’s belongings for now.

While Minhyuk was washing up for the night, he pondered. And he texted Yoona.

_ Noona, what’s my third option? _

Her reply was immediate.  _ We need a guinea pig. _

That night, as Minhyuk curled together with Myungjun in the darkness, he thought of what Dongmin had said about how it would take time to really bring justice for song-sharers and dismantle Songbird Senior Command. He thought of his mother and grandmother and Yoona, and Miyeon still trapped in a dungeon somewhere. He thought of Myungjun’s parents and brother. He thought of Dongmin and how he continued to look pale and drawn and thin, stretched to his limits by all that was being placed on his shoulders. 

Minhyuk nestled closer to Myungjun and closed his eyes and listened to Myungjun’s gentle breaths, counted them and was grateful for each and every one, because they meant Myungjun was still alive, that the loss of his voice wasn’t in vain.


	25. Chapter 25

“Your voice is gone permanently,” Sajangnim said, repeating what Jinwoo had spoken for Minhyuk.

Minhyuk nodded. He sat between Jinwoo and Myungjun at the conference table, the rest of his teammates arrayed on either side of them, Manager with them, Sajangnim and Team-jangnim and the PR team across from them.

Sajangnim glanced at Myungjun, then back at Minhyuk. “Songbird magic can heal his broken arm but not your voice.”

Dongmin said, “Song-eater magic stole Minhyuk’s voice. Regular violence caused Myungjun’s broken arm. If a doctor were to examine Minhyuk’s vocal cords, he’d see no physiological damage whatsoever.”

“Magic,” Sajangnim echoed. He blinked a few times. “Well, if you can’t sing or rap, you’re useless to your team.”

Sanha’s eyes went wide, but he bit his lip and said nothing.

Minhyuk nodded again.

“But you still have two years and some change left on your contract,” Sajangnim said. “There’s debate among the legal team as to whether you losing your voice was due to your own negligence or due to someone else’s or due to an act of god, as it were.”

“The devil, more like,” Manager muttered.

Several of the PR staff cast Myungjun sympathetic looks.

Jinwoo said, “Yoona-sunbaenim has offered to hire Minhyuk on as her private choreographer and lead male dancer.”

Team-jangnim blinked. “When did she make this offer?”

“Last night,” Jinwoo said. “Personally.”

“Minhyuk-ssi has been an invaluable resource in choreographing for other teams and hoobaes for their individual stages,” one of the PR minions said. “We do have in-house dancers even if we don’t typically have in-house choreographers, but where he knows our teams and artists already and they have rapport with him, it could be a useful thing.”

“Whatever the legal team decides,” Team-jangnim said, “you’re off this team.”

Minhyuk nodded tightly.

“We discussed it,” Jinwoo said, “and we thought it would be best to wait until after the concerts to make the announcement, so the fans could enjoy the concerts with happy hearts.”

The PR lady nodded. “That sounds appropriate.”

“What about some kind of final appearance or farewell?” one of the other PR minions asked.

“An appearance where he can’t speak?” Team-jangnim asked. “Do you want to upset the fans even more?”

“He did very well on his last solo broadcast. He chatted to fans and even sang,” Jinwoo said. “That should be enough.”

“He can write a final letter for the fan cafe,” Bin said.

“Maybe a final dance video?” Sanha offered.

Working on choreography would give Minhyuk something to do while the others were doing final rehearsals for the concert.

The PR lady and minions nodded at each other.

Minhyuk curled his hand through Myungjun’s under the table and wrote on his palm.

Myungjun nodded and swallowed hard. Then he said, “Minhyuk has already begun packing his things.”

Sajangnim narrowed his eyes. “Are you two back together? And why is everyone talking for him? How do you even know what he’s saying? He’s not using sign language.”

One of the PR minions said, “Sir, the whistling. It’s songs. They’re communicating using song lyrics.”

Team-jangnim looked discomfited by the notion, but PR lady looked intrigued.

“So it’s settled,” Team-jangnim said finally. “You’re leaving the team.”

Minhyuk nodded.

“All right. The rest of you - you have concert rehearsals,” Team-jangnim said, and like that, the meeting was over.

Myungjun squeezed Minhyuk’s hand one more time, and then he left with the others.

Minhyuk rose, bowed to the company officials, and headed for the door. On the way there, he paused to let Sajangnim go ahead of him. For the first time ever, Minhyuk realized the man was shorter than him, smaller. He always looked so imposing in his expensive suits, the way he usually loomed over the conference table.

Sajangnim looked at him. “You had a promising career ahead of you. Was it worth it?”

Minhyuk held the man’s gaze and nodded.

Sajangnim shook his head. “Young love really is something, isn’t it?”

Minhyuk, because he was feeling bold, whistled the chorus of My Style as he headed toward the practice rooms.

“What did he say? What did that mean?” Sajangnim asked.

“Ah, I didn’t recognize the song, sir,” one of the minions said.

This time of day, the smaller practice rooms were empty. The others would be practicing in their designated performance space with a camera there so the camera team would know where to go and they’d know how to navigate around the camera while it moved. But Minhyuk couldn’t think about them. He had to think about the fans and how best to say goodbye.

Immediately he thought of Myungun’s beautiful cover of Paul Kim’s So Long. In giving up his voice for Myungjun, he’d given up the career he’d worked so hard for; he’d given up his team and family, his best friends and brothers, his home and his future. But Myungjun was his first love, his only love, and Minhyuk would make the same decision again, even though he’d given up Myungjun as well.

Minhyuk found the song on his phone, plugged his phone into the sound system, and turned it up, up and up and up until he could feel Myungjun’s voice in his bones, and he moved.

_ Let me say so long _

_ Pushing back those short times _

_ Though it’ll still hurt _

This loud, Myungjun’s voice was a golden caress across his bare skin, honey on his tongue with every inhale.

The song was slow and sentimental, but it said everything Minhyuk wanted to say.

_ Goodbye, goodbye now _

_ I just can’t say those words _

_ My heart is filled with you _

_ The only thing I could do _

_ Is to love you _

_ I hope I can see you again _

Minhyuk spun till he was dizzy, and when he finally stopped, the song ended on sweet, crystalline piano notes.

“If you perform this, everyone’s going to know you’re in love with him.”

Minhyuk opened his eyes. 

One of the PR minions leaned in the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest. He was dressed professionally, in a button-down shirt and slacks, shiny loafers. He was young, maybe only a few years older than Minhyuk.

“When I watch you dance, I think I’d give half my life to be able to move like you, and then I remember that you have given more than half your life to performing.” The young man tilted his head. “I wish someone loved me as much as you love him, that they’d be willing to give up everything for me.”

Minhyuk inclined his head politely. He cast about for a pen and paper, but the other man waved him off.

“Don’t worry about it. I was passing by and I just happened to see, and I was curious. Good luck, Rocky-ssi.” The man bowed and departed.

Minhyuk watched him go, and he headed over to his phone.

The man was right. That song and dance would be for Myungjun. He was supposed to do something for the fans. But he could do something for Myungjun as well.

* * *

By the time lunch rolled around, Minhyuk had the bare bones of choreography for his farewell piece for the fans, which he’d decided to set to Innocent Love. He’d considered a medley of all the team’s title tracks, but that didn’t seem right, especially where there were dozens of fan cams of him dancing to those songs. He’d also listened to some of the fan songs, but all of those were about being together forever, and since he was saying goodbye, that was the wrong choice. Briefly, he considered doing a solo to a guide version of one of the songs he’d written, so it’d be just his voice while he danced, but  _ he _ couldn’t really stomach the notion of that, so he settled on Innocent Love. The lyrics were about apologizing to a first love lost, loving them still but also wishing them well. In the recorded version, he had barely any vocals, but he did have the last line,  _ Thank you, my first love,  _ and that seemed appropriate.

Minhyuk had checked his phone multiple times, but of course there were no messages from the others, because they were rehearsing, but rehearsals weren’t just rehearsals - it was also filming behind the scenes content for fans, taking photos, and possibly answering questions for select members of the press as well.

With a second attack on the team and the possibility that the team was being targeted because of Dongmin’s open Songbird status, the company had increased security for them, so now Bomi guarded them, in addition to Seolwoo and Bora. Minhyuk, however, needed no security, so he felt free to leave the building and head down the street to a little tteokbokki restaurant where the team had eaten often as trainees.

He’d dressed nicely to meet with company officials, but he’d changed into comfortable clothes for dance practice, so with a cap on, he looked ordinary, unremarkable. Since it was lunch time, the restaurant was quite busy. Everything was going well until the auntie who ran the restaurant turned to him and said, “What do you want?” and he realized he had no way to answer.

He pointed to his throat and made an X sign with his arms, then grabbed his phone and found a scrolling text app. He typed in a message for her to see.

_ Sorry, I’m mute, but I can hear.  _

She peered at his phone. “Eh?” Then she said, loudly and slowly, “What do you want to eat?”

Minhyuk bit back a sigh and typed out,  _ Tteokbokki and kimchi pork, please, with a cider. _

The auntie nodded and patted his head like he was a child, and she steered him toward a table in the corner.

Minhyuk mouthed a protest, but to no avail. With a sigh, he sat down and waited for his drink to arrive. Was this what the rest of his life was going to be like, if he went out alone? 

When the auntie brought him a cider, he bobbed his head politely, and he cracked it open and sipped. While he waited, he checked his phone. There were still no messages from the others, but he sent a message to the group chat anyway, asked how rehearsals were going.

Then he opened up his text thread with Yoona and read over the messages she’d sent him the night before, about her third offer. She hadn’t mentioned it in front of the others, because they’d have objections, and rightly so. The conditions bordered on inhumane, and the burden on him would be immeasurable. But of the three offers, it was the one that mattered most in the war for song-sharer freedom and equality. Could he do it?

“Tteokbokki and kimchi pork?” someone shouted.

Minhyuk lifted his head.

A college-age boy stood at the entrance to the kitchen, dishes in hand.

Minhyuk waved.

The boy shouted again.

Minhyuk waved more vigorously.

The boy sighed. “Auntie, the customer must have left before the order was complete.”

The auntie sighed and shouted the order louder.

Minhyuk waved again. 

The auntie went to take the dishes back into the kitchen. 

Minhyuk whistled shrilly.

All the chatter in the restaurant ceased.

The auntie turned, expression thunderous.

Minhyuk waved at her, then mimed eating with a pair of chopsticks.

Realization crossed her face. “Oh. Right. Of course.” She brought him the food, and again she spoke loudly and slowly. “Apologies, customer. Enjoy your meal.”

Minhyuk bobbed his head, and then he dug in. The tteokbokki was as good as he remembered. He smiled and kept on eating. After the meal, he paid, and he walked back to the company.

Did he want to dance some more? No, he should let the food settle. It was a nice day out, though, and he didn’t want to stay cooped up inside. So he headed up to the roof, turned on his phone to some live music just to enjoy the taste, and he considered Yoona’s messages some more.

She’d taken Dongmin’s words to heart, about moving toward a long-term solution for equality for song-sharers and justice for the atrocities committed by Songbird Senior Command. Under the law, song-sharers weren’t considered human. However, Songbirds who had song-sharer magic and song-sharer blood were considered human and, with the right training, were essentially outside the law as far as the hunting and killing of song-sharers and the few actual song-eaters. 

The best way to immediately cripple Songbird Senior Command would be to expose the kidnapping and torture of human children, the song-sharers’ families. But until song-sharers themselves were considered human under the law, there would be no justice for them, and people like Minhyuk and his mother and grandmother would always be in fear for their lives.

One of the best ways, at least in South Korea, to convince the legislature to change the law, was to have scientific evidence to support the notion that song-sharers were related closely enough to humans, or humans to them, that any legal differentiation was untenable. To that end, scientists needed to be able to study live song-sharers. 

Was Minhyuk willing to be a guinea pig for the cause?

He set his phone aside and fished his notebook and pen out of his book bag.

In addition to a farewell dance, he was going to write a goodbye letter to the fans to be posted on the fan cafe. Some people typed letters. He’d probably go through several drafts of the letter before he posted, but he wanted to post a handwritten one. The fans deserved that much. He wanted to be honest and sincere with them, but there were things he couldn’t tell them.

What could he tell them?

That he was grateful to them for believing in him, for their love and support all these years, for all the good memories they’d made together. That he was sorry he had to leave them early, that he wasn’t able to keep his promise of staying with them for a long time. That he wanted them to be healthy and happy and not worry about him and to keep supporting the team while he was gone. That he didn’t regret any of the time he’d had with them. That he hoped they went on and achieved their dreams, and he’d achieved many of his dreams in his time with them.

By the time he was finished, he had a bunch of incoherent ramblings, but he’d be able to marshal them into something reasonable later. It was a start. Few people had the opportunity to rehearse an important goodbye. Since he had the chance to do it, he would do it right. 

The sun was starting to fade, and someone texted him. Myungjun. They would be done with rehearsal in another hour.

That gave Minhyuk time to go by the convenience store to buy some ingredients so he could make dinner for his teammates. They’d be hungry when they got home.

He dropped his book bag off at the dorm, grabbed the shopping bags, and headed out to the corner store.

Granny greeted him with a smile. “Minhyuk-ah, it’s been a while. Have you seen the news? Song-eaters have been attacking boys who live in our neighborhood, boys who are celebrities! One of them has even lost his voice for a little while. I can’t believe we have celebrities in our neighborhood.”

Minhyuk bobbed his head and waved. He grabbed ingredients for fried rice, spicy chicken, and kimchi, and brought them up to the counter.

“How have you been lately? Is work going well?” Granny beamed at him.

Minhyuk pointed to his throat and shook his head.

“Ah, you have a sore throat? I understand. It’s going around. Drink lots of ginger and honey tea. Take good care of your brothers!” Granny finished ringing him up quickly.

He waved at her, gathered up his purchases, and set off for home.

It wouldn’t be home for much longer, would it?

Where would he live after this?

No, best not to think too hard about it right this second. He had to focus on making supper.

Back in the dorm he unloaded the groceries, turned on more live music, and set to cooking.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d just casually drunk music like this, if ever. Sometimes, when it was just him and Mother and Grandma at a live music performance, they all dared to take little sips, but even at home he had never been able to indulge like this. What would it be like, to live in a world where he could just enjoy the taste of music, even if it wasn’t live music? 

But he was drinking live music, because even though he could still vividly remember that hideous snap, he had to try. To heal himself. 

Every time he directed the music to his voice, it fizzled out, like electricity with nowhere to go. Dongmin had been correct when he’d told Sajangnim that there was nothing physically wrong with Minhyuk’s voice, so there was nothing medically to heal. But that didn’t stop him from trying, over and over.

He closed his eyes and did his best to direct the energy as clearly as he could, but it fizzled out over and over again. Long before he’d learned meditation for taekwondo, his mother and grandmother had taught him how to meditate so he could channel music to heal himself and, in a pinch, heal someone else who was unconscious.

Finally, with a sigh, he switched over to canned music, because he could listen to a bigger variety, and he focused on cooking supper.

He heard it when someone input the door code, and then the door opened. He turned and went to call out a greeting, and then he remembered he couldn’t, so he just resumed cooking.

“We’re home,” Sanha sang out. “Ooh, did Minhyuk order food?”

“No, can’t you hear that? He’s cooking,” Jinwoo said.

Minhyuk glanced over his shoulder and did his best to smile. The others looked exhausted.

Bin immediately prowled over to the stove, sniffing appreciatively. When he scooped up a pair of chopsticks and stole a bite of fried rice out of the wok, Minhyuk didn’t even try to stop him, just rolled his eyes.

Myungjun came to stand behind him, arms around his waist, chin on his shoulder. “Hey, I missed you.”

Minhyuk turned and pressed a kiss to his cheek and smiled in response. 

“How long till dinner’s ready?” Dongmin asked. 

Minhyuk whistled the tune of Just One Ten Minutes. 

“Is that a real ten minutes or an Eunwoo ten minutes?” Sanha asked, and Dongmin swatted at him indignantly. 

“Let’s set the table,” Jinwoo said. 

It was pleasantly domestic, listening to the rest of his family prepare for a meal together. Myungjun stayed close, handing him utensils and spices that Minhyuk whispered the names of. 

“They’re being gross,” Sanha complained. 

“I’m helping him cook,” Myungjun said primly. 

“He was licking your ear.”

Minhyuk twisted around and mouthed  _ Yah! _

Myungjun said, “He can still whisper. He was just telling me what to hand him.”

Sanha’s teasing expression faded. “Oh.”

Once supper was ready, they gathered around the table and dug in. 

Minhyuk listened while the others recounted how rehearsals went that day, the things that went well, the things they needed to improve. They’d had to swiftly rework all the performances for only five people. They’d performed with as few as four people before, but this was the first time Minhyuk wasn’t one of them, and they were experimenting with the arrangements. 

As Minhyuk had previously suggested, Jinwoo was picking up all of Minhyuk’s rap parts except for the parts where Minhyuk alternated with him or doubled up with him, and Bin jumped in there unless he was doing ad-libs or harmonies, at which point Sanha jumped in. Dongmin had no intention of becoming a rapper even though fans loved it when he took a rap part on part-switched performances, so he was doing his best to not end up taking any rap parts. Minhyuk’s singing parts were distributed to Jinwoo as well unless they were too far up out of his range, at which point they were given to Sanha or Bin. In addition to redistributing vocal parts, they had to adjust the choreography for only five people, so the right person was in the center at the right time for their new vocal parts.

It was hard work, and it was stressful, and Minhyuk could hear how the others hesitated talking about it, but he nodded and smiled encouragingly.

When the others asked about his day, he whistled the tune for the chorus of Day6’s Dance Dance, and then he mimed writing.

“What song did you end up deciding to dance to?” Bin asked.

Minhyuk whistled the chorus of Innocent Love.

“Really? Not a fan song?” Sanha asked.

Dongmin tsked. “And break the fans’ hearts? All those songs are about staying together forever.”

After supper, they cleaned up together, and by then it was late, and they were all tired, so they took turns washing up so they could go to bed.

“I’ve been thinking about this all day,” Myungjun said, while he and Minhyuk were cuddling on the loveseat, limbs tangled, Minhyuk stroking Myungjun’s soft hair. “If I have Songbird magic, that means I have song-sharer blood. Shouldn’t I be able to give you my voice directly, even a little bit? Maybe it won’t be as powerful as when an actual song-sharer does it, but -”

Minhyuk shook his head.  _ It won’t work, _ he wrote on Myungjun’s arm.

“Yoona-sunbaenim said that sharing your voice is the ultimate act of love, and I love you. It could work, right? Because love is magic, isn’t it? Like in Harry Potter.”

Minhyuk just looked at him and didn’t even have to say it.  _ This isn’t Harry Potter. _

Myungjun disentangled himself and sat up, turned to face Minhyuk fully. “Just let me try. It couldn’t hurt to try.”

Minhyuk let Myungjun tug him up so they were kneeling facing each other, but he just sighed.

“Come on. How does it work? Do I just sing and you just inhale? But that’s just you drinking my voice, isn’t it? That won’t work. Your mother and grandmother already gave you lots of songs to try to heal your voice while you were unconscious.” Myungjun angled his head and began to sing softly.

It took a moment for Minhyuk to recognize the song. It was from the musical Myungjun had been rehearsing for. Guilt twisted in Minhyuk’s chest. And then Myungjun pressed his mouth to Minhyuk’s and blew. Minhyuk started coughing.

“What the hell are you two doing?” Jinwoo demanded. 

“Get a room,” Sanha whined. 

Myungjun pulled back, also coughing.

Dongmin put a hand on Myungjun’s shoulder. “Hyung, he won’t drink your voice.”

“I’m trying to share it with him directly,” Myungjun protested. 

Dongmin sighed. “You heard noona. Only an actual song-sharer can do that.”

“But I love him. If I love him enough it’ll work,” Myungjun insisted. 

Jinwoo came to kneel beside the loveseat. “Hyung, Minhyuk knows you love him.”

Myungjun sniffled and nodded. 

Bin scrambled to join them. “Look, maybe it’ll just take time. Really big injuries take time to heal.” He fished his phone out of his pocket and turned on the radio app, found the live radio station Minhyuk always used. He smiled tentatively at Minhyuk. “Drink a lot and drink often, all right? And visualize. You know how hard I worked on visualization and how it worked for healing me. I’ll teach you how it works.”

Apparently Bin’s suggestion was good enough for Myungjun, and the six of them ended up sitting on the floor in a circle, cross-legged, eyes closed and breathing deeply while Bin walked them through the basics of meditation before he guided them through a visualization exercise. 

Minhyuk knew, better than a lot of people, the differences between the way his voice sounded when it was recorded versus when it was live over amplification versus when he was listening to himself aloud. He knew the subtleties that the resonance his own skull gave his voice that other people couldn’t hear, how to deal with the multiple inputs of background music, his teammates, and his own voice over his in-ear monitors. 

He knew how to imagine his voice so when it hit the air, it sounded the way he wanted it to. 

So he imagined the words he wanted to say. 

_ Myungjunnie, I love you. _

And then he absorbed the music he’d been drinking in and holding. 

It fizzled out in his throat.

But he spoke the words anyway. 

No words came out. 

When he opened his eyes, the others were all staring at him expectantly. 

He sighed and shook his head. 

Myungjun pushed himself to his feet and rushed to his bedroom. 

Minhyuk patted Bin on the shoulder and hurried after Myungjun, who was curled up on the bed and crying softly. 

Minhyuk climbed onto the bed behind him and spooned up against him. He pressed a kiss to Myungjun’s shoulder and then wrote on his arm. 

_ Don’t cry. It’s not your fault. I’ll keep working on it. Bin’s right. It could just take time.  _

Myungjun sniffled more. 

_ If you keep crying you’ll ruin your voice and you’ll wake up with a bloated face.  _

Sometimes an appeal to professional obligations was insensitive, but sometimes it was the better choice. Myungjun nodded and rolled over, nestled close. 

“Minhyukie,” he murmured. “I love you. Get well soon, okay?”

Minhyuk whispered back, “I love you too.”

They fell asleep tangled close, like old times, and Minhyuk was, despite everything, happy. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [My Style](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AONQvXf9a_8) \- if you read the lyrics it’s about doing your own thing and not caring about what other people think
> 
> [So Long](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SIGhH_g0hsU) \- MJ's cover of the Paul Kim song from the Hotel Del Luna OST


	26. Chapter 26

Myungjun and the others must have been very quiet when they left the next morning, because when Minhyuk woke, the dorm was empty. It was after eight when he rolled out of bed - and nearly landed on the floor, though his superior reflexes saved him. He padded out into the kitchen and found rice and some cutely-made triangle kimbap with a note in Myungjun’s handwriting. 

_ Have a good day! See you after rehearsals! Fighting! _

Minhyuk couldn’t help but smile. He turned on some music to drink while he ate, and then he took a quick shower knowing he’d be doing dance practice later in the day. 

What should he do with his day? Usually when he had down time between promotions he was still working, writing songs, choreographing covers or solos, helping other artists in the company with their dances. Once in a while he had a solo schedule, like that one masked dance competition he’d been on, and other dance-based shows. 

What he ought to do was pack some more. 

So he dressed in comfortable clothes, grabbed his wallet and keys, and headed for the nearest office supplies store - he had to search for one on his phone - to buy some packing boxes. He had to take a bus to get there, and on the way he programmed a message onto the scrolling text app on his phone.

_ Hello. My name is Park Minhyuk. I’m mute but I can hear. Thank you for being patient with me. _

He figured he could buy some packing boxes with minimal interaction with other people and be back to the dorm, but he’d best be prepared. He had a large suitcase that would fit most of the clothes he had at the dorm. Technically all of his stage costumes were his - they’d been tailored to fit him, and the cost of them came out of his pay. Some of them were, well, outrageous, but pieces of some of them could be useful in future, so he would head to the company and collect those. Few of them actually reflected his personal style, but having some professional-looking jackets and slacks that matched couldn’t hurt.

At the office supplies store, he bought a dozen boxes, figuring the others could use any extras. The middle-aged man who assisted him was, thankfully, not condescending and didn’t treat Minhyuk like he was an idiot. He was actually very clever and helpful and bound up the boxes with twine so there was a little handle on them for easy carrying.

Back at the dorm, Minhyuk assembled the boxes, stood in his bedroom, rolled up his sleeves, and tried not to cry.

The dorm was his home. Even though they’d only lived in this dorm for a few years, everything in this room he was sharing with Dongmin had been his since he’d moved into the dorms as a trainee, back when he’d lived with Bin and then Dongmin. His stuffed toys, his books, gifts from fans, souvenirs from their overseas concerts and world tour, and all the other little things that lined the edges of his desk and his half of the windowsill and had once lined the edges of his bunk bed were memories. Prizes from games he’d played backstage at awards shows or end-of-year festivals. Trinkets from nights out with his teammates. Albums he’d had signed by artists he really looked up to. 

Minhyuk took a deep breath and closed his eyes, called up Bin’s voice in his mind narrating the visualization exercise. Pictured himself speaking.

_ Myungjunnie, I love you. _

But nothing came out.

So he turned on some live music, and he drank steadily, and he began packing his memories into small cardboard boxes, the kind given to employees who’d been fired from their jobs.

By the time he was finished, it was lunch time, so he took a break to eat. After, he could walk to the company to let the food settle.

On the way, he texted his mother to let her know what was going on, that he was leaving his team and considering future paths.

_ Come home, _ she sent.  _ I know someone who runs a dojang. You can get certified as a taekwondo instructor. _

Teaching while being unable to speak would be difficult, but if he could teach dance, why not taekwondo? Although when it came to dance he’d be working with professionals who would more or less keep themselves in line. Minhyuk remembered the dojang of his childhood and how it had been part daycare, unfortunately for his instructor.

_ I’ll consider it, _ he replied, which was the truth but not the answer she wanted to hear. 

At the company, he headed straight for the practice rooms, and he passed a few hoobaes and trainees. They greeted him respectfully, and he acknowledged them politely, but he could see the pity in their eyes.

His voice was gone. His idol career was over.

His career wasn’t his life, though. He was still alive, and he could dance.

In the practice room, he turned on some music from his friend Chani’s team to stretch out to and warm up, and then he found a video camera to record his work so he could figure out which pieces he wanted to keep, and he turned on Innocent Love.

And he danced his goodbyes.

By the time it was time to break for supper, he had the choreography complete. All that was left was polishing, which would take a couple of days, and then some planning for the film concept. He mulled a few ideas over while he was rinsing off in the locker rooms.

On his way out the door, he stopped by the stylists department and handed a note to the receptionist, asking about where he could find all his old costumes, make sure they were brought out of storage and cleaned.

“Since they were planning on using a lot of them for the virtual concert, we have plenty of them handy,” one of the junior stylists said, “so getting the rest should be easy.”

Minhyuk inclined his head and made a  _ thank you _ gesture.

He turned to go, and the young woman called out, 

“I’m sorry.”

Minhyuk turned to her, puzzled.

“About your voice,” she said, and the others hissed at her to be quiet, that she was being rude.

Minhyuk shook his head and mouthed,  _ It’s okay. _ He inclined his head again, and he left.

On the way back to the dorm, he stopped by another restaurant he and the others had frequented as trainees, and he ordered supper. He’d had the foresight to pre-write his order on a note and hand it over. Because the restaurant was loud, the auntie running the restaurant didn’t mind the lack of conversation since he bowed politely and paid up front and was ordering a lot. While he waited for the food, he watched the final recording of the day’s dance practice on his phone without sound, checking his dance line and timing just by counting in his head.

When the food arrived, he accepted it with another deep bow, and he headed for the dorm. He arrived just as the others were stepping off the other elevator, Seolwoo, Bora, and Bomi trailing after them.

“Hyung! You got  _ soondae _ and fish cakes? You’re the best.” Sanha hurried to help him with the bags.

Sanha opened the door.

Bomi and Bora nodded at Minhyuk. Bora offered him a faint smile.

He smiled back, then headed inside.

Supper was a pleasant affair. Of course, the others were tired. They were working very hard, but rehearsals were going well. They were only performing two group numbers for the virtual festival. Jinwoo, Myungjun, and Dongmin were slated to perform solos, but they still had to rehearse for their big virtual concert when they weren’t doing camera rehearsals for the festival.

After supper, they cleaned up as a team.

“Have you been drinking music and healing?” Myungjun asked while Minhyuk wiped down the table.

Minhyuk nodded, because it was true; he’d drunk music whenever it was playing in the background, sipping casually here and there, either just for a taste or for an energy boost when he was flagging.

Or to try to heal his voice.

“Have you been practising your visualizations?” Bin chimed in.

That led to them all sitting in a circle and meditating again.

After, Minhyuk tried to speak, but to no avail.

At least Myungjun didn’t start crying this time. 

In the darkness, in the bedroom, Minhyuk and Myungjun curled up together in the bed, and Minhyuk listened to Myungjun breathe.

He traced a message on Myungjun’s bare forearm.

_ My mother wants me to come home and be a taekwondo instructor. _

“What did you tell her?” Myungjun asked.

_ That I’d think about it, but I think she knew I really meant no. _

Myungjun leaned in and kissed him.

Minhyuk could feel him smiling.

He whispered, _ Myungjunnie, I love you, _ and together they fell asleep.

Eight days left.

* * *

The next day, the others left early, and Minhyuk packed some more. He went to the hospital for his first counseling session, which was mostly him filling out questionnaires about how he was feeling and what his plans were for his life going forward. The counselor, a pleasant middle-aged woman with curly hair, seemed suspicious of how calm he was. When he explained, via messages typed out on his phone, that he’d sacrificed his voice so someone he cared about could live, she only seemed slightly mollified. 

After his counseling session, he met with the sign language instructor, who asked how he’d been handling communication so far. She was impressed that he wasn’t too frustrated and was amused that he was getting by with a lot of whistled song lyrics but pointed out that, once he was around people who didn’t know the same songs as all his best friends, that method would be less useful. She gave him a book of basic signs, recommended some learning apps to download, and told him to speak to his family about scheduling lessons together so they could learn and practice together.

He thanked her, gathered up his supplies, and went for some lunch at another old, beloved restaurant. After that, he continued on to the company.

And he danced.

He’d just barely showered and put on clean clothes when Manager found him.

“Hey, everyone’s getting ready to head over to the festival venue for filming. You want to come along?”

Minhyuk considered for a moment, but then he shook his head. With all the other teams there, nervous for their performances, his presence would be an ill omen, a reminder of what they all risked. That the rest of the team, twice survivors of song-eater attacks, walked among them, would be nerve-wracking enough. He’d be at the next concert.

Back at the dorm, he texted his family, and they discussed sign language lessons. Since he still wasn’t sure where he’d be living or what he’d be doing, chances of them being able to take classes together in person were slim, but arranging practice together over video chats were an option.

Eomma begged him to come home.

He told her he had received a really generous offer that would allow him to keep dancing and still see Myungjun once in a while, and he was considering it strongly. 

Dad wished him luck.

Minseok asked for an album autographed by some of the pretty girls who were Minhyuk’s hoobaes at the company. 

Eomma scolded him.

After that, Minhyuk lay on Myungjun’s bed and turned on some music and closed his eyes and just drank. Was this what getting drunk on wine felt like? The slow, warm lassitude creeping through his limbs, the hazy calm, the bittersweetness on his tongue. He might have lain there for hours before the music was interrupted by a buzzing on his phone. Incoming notification.

The others were streaming live from backstage at the festival. They performed in an hour. Of course Minhyuk would watch them and cheer for them. Minhyuk tapped on the notification, and the app launched. A video filled the screen. The others were in their stage costumes, lounging in the waiting room, the rest of the staff carefully out of view. Manager was probably filming for them. 

Fan comments flooded one corner of the screen, and the viewer numbers ticked up. The number of hearts ticked up even faster. Minhyuk tapped on the heart button as well out of solidarity with the fans. If he posted a comment, it would come from the team’s account, and the fans would notice and realize it was him.

Myungjun, Sanha, and Jinwoo were sitting on a little sofa, smiling and talking about how excited they were to see some of their favorite sunbaes, how they’d stood behind the cameras to watch them perform and it was so cool and also a really good learning experience, but also they weren’t rookies anymore, and that was still kind of a new feeling.

Myungjun looked stunning, his skin flawless, not a strand of hair out of place.

Minhyuk was pretty sure he’d never stop taking good care of his own skin, but he also wouldn’t miss the days when he had to get up early to go to the shop to get all made up.

Dongmin and Bin entered the frame then, and with all five of them assembled they gave their team greeting.

Minhyuk’s heart tightened when they mentioned his name, that he was at home resting and they wished him lots of energy, but they knew he was with them in spirit, and they hoped the fans sent him positive vibes too.

Minhyuk typed in a comment.  _ I’m sending you positive energy! Fighting! _

As predicted, the comments section exploded when the fans realized he was watching along with them.

Only Minhyuk saw the regret in his teammates’ eyes as they smiled at the camera and greeted him directly. He resolved to stay quiet for the rest of the broadcast, which only lasted for twenty minutes.

At the very end, he added a final comment with the rest,  _ Astro I love you! _

The fans wouldn’t understand just how much he meant it until too late.

Of course he streamed the concert - and he took a picture of himself watching it in the den, with Sanha’s laptop hooked up to the television - and he cheered and posted lots of positive comments, and he was fiercely, fiercely proud of his teammates. They managed as a five-man team smoothly, and with odd numbers the choreography looked  _ right _ because it finally had an actual center. Bin did well with the rap parts, which the fans gushed over, and the team looked good. So good. They would do well without him - if he didn’t get his voice back.

As soon as the broadcast ended, Minhyuk shut down the television and disconnected Sanha’s laptop, put everything away. The others would have supper on their own in celebration. He should just wait up for them.

He went to crawl into Myungjun’s bed and drink music in the darkness, but his phone buzzed.

Text message from Yoona.

_ Police found Miyeon’s corpse in the park near Cha Clan headquarters. _

Minhyuk wanted to throw his phone across the room. Instead he typed back,  _ Don’t tell Dongmin. _

_ It’s already on the news. Even though the press won’t release her name, he’ll figure it out. He’s smart. _

Minhyuk mouthed several choice swear words. Then he typed,  _ This is where I agree to become your guinea pig. _

_ Are you sure? _

Minhyuk was never going to get his voice back. He would always be a dancer, no matter what. And he would always be a song-sharer. He had to do this. If he did this, maybe one day in the future he and Myungjun could be together freely, without burdens or worries.

_ I’m sure. _

_ Then I’ll see you tomorrow. _

Minhyuk set his phone aside and closed his eyes. So it was really coming to this. 

How would Dongmin handle everything in the coming months? Would the others be able to help him and support him? 

He lay in the darkness, listening to the music that resumed but not drinking, till he heard drunken giggles in the hallway and the beep of the door code. The others were home. 

He rolled out of the bed and onto his feet, padded into the den to meet his teammates. 

“Minhyukie.” Myungjun was definitely tipsy as he swayed forward into Minhyuk’s arms and planted a big wet kiss on his cheek. “Did you see us? How did we do? Did we look so cool?”

Minhyuk smiled tiredly and whistled the chorus of Crazy Sexy Cool. 

Jinwoo and Sanha cheered.

It was Dongmin who said, “Have you been practising your visualizations?”

At that, the others clustered around him eagerly.

Minhyuk closed his eyes, controlled his breathing, and he pictured himself saying the words such perfect clarity that he could hear them.

_ Myungjunnie, I love you. _

When he opened his eyes, the others looked crestfallen.

“You’ve drunk lots of music today, right?” Bin asked.

Minhyuk nodded.

“Then I’ll try some more to give you my voice,” Myungjun said with a lewd wink, and he dragged Minhyuk to the bedroom.

Minhyuk was hesitant as Myungjun peeled them both out of their clothes, because Myungjun was clearly drunk, but Myungjun insisted,  _ I’m just a little tipsy, it’s fine, _ and when they were finally in each other’s arms, Minhyuk could pretend the rest of the world and all of its ensuing madness didn’t exist, and all that mattered was Myungjun and the taste of his kisses and the flavor of his moans.

* * *

The next morning, when Minhyuk woke, Myungjun was still sleeping, so Minhyuk slipped out of the bed, pulled on the nearest clothes he could find, and padded into the kitchen to make breakfast. The morning after a late-night broadcast like that, where they had no other schedules, they were allowed to sleep in. Chances were, even after drinking, Sanha and Jinwoo were too wired to sleep and had stayed awake, checking the fan cafe on their phones to see what the fans thought of the performance.

So Minhyuk was very surprised to see Jinwoo come shuffling out of the three-person bedroom.

Minhyuk hefted the wok he was holding, offering to make enough breakfast for Jinwoo to share. 

“Sure, thanks.”

Minhyuk smiled and set to cooking.

“So, last night.” Jinwoo sank down at the table and scrubbed at the back of his neck tiredly.

Minhyuk glanced over his shoulder, raised his eyebrows. 

“Myungjun was really loud.”

Minhyuk turned bright red. He glanced over his shoulder again and saw Jinwoo was bright red too.

“How did you two ever hide your relationship from us?”

Minhyuk shrugged, and then he made the universal pinching gesture for short or small, and then he also whistled the familiar notes of the warding spell without putting any magic into them.

“You mean usually Myungjun doesn’t last for very long?” Jinwoo asked.

“Yah!” Myungjun said, stepping out of the bedroom. “He means we’d only been dating for a short while, and also he usually put a spell on the door so you would be less able to hear us.” 

Jinwoo blushed harder. “Good morning, hyung.”

Myungjun ambled across the den and gave Minhyuk a slow, warm good morning kiss, then stole a bite of kimchi. 

By the time everyone else was awake, breakfast was ready, so they ate together, and they cleaned up together. 

“We have to go practice for our next concert,” Myungjun said, pausing beside Minhyuk where he was washing dishes. “Will you be all right?”

Minhyuk nodded and kissed Myungjun on the cheek. 

Bin cast a glance at the slowly-growing pile of boxes in the two-man bedroom. 

And then Minhyuk’s phone buzzed. He wiped his hand on his apron and checked it. 

Message from Yoona. 

_ Meet me at your company in ninety minutes. Dress nicely.  _

He typed back an affirmative, and he resumed washing dishes. The rest of the team, in comfortable practice clothes, headed out the door. Bora, Bomi, and Seolwoo met them. 

Once he was finished with the dishes, he showered up thoroughly, combed his hair and put on minimal makeup, and he put on nice slacks, a button-down shirt, one of his nicer jackets, and formal shoes. He packed a dance practice bag and a water bottle, made sure he had his phone and wallet and keys. And then he ordered a taxi on his phone so he wouldn’t be terribly sweaty by the time he got to the company. 

He arrived right at the same time as Yoona, who stepped out of a fancy black sedan and looked more like a chaebol out to execute a corporate takeover than an idol who’d come to another company for a meeting. She wore a designer suit, killer heels, and jewelry that Minhyuk suspected was literally killer, judging by the familiar designs of the pendants and chains of her necklaces and bracelets and even her earrings. She was accompanied by half a dozen men and women in conservative dark suits carrying leather briefcases.

The security guards looked nervous when Yoona approached, but she had an appointment, so they issued her and her attorneys visitor badges.

“The meeting is in conference room four,” one of the receptionists said.

Minhyuk texted Yoona, _ I can show you the way. _

Yoona smiled. “Thank you.”

Minhyuk had forgotten that Yoona was quite tall for a woman, the same height as him in regular shoes. In heels, she was almost as tall as Sanha, and she strode beside him with an ominous clacking sound as they headed for the elevators and then the conference rooms.

Staff and interns and artists alike scattered out of her path, plastering themselves against the walls and bowing, wide-eyed. Minhyuk heard the awed whispers.

_ It’s Yoona!  _

_ What is she doing here? _

_ She must be here about Eunwoo. Songbird business.  _

_ She’s even more beautiful in person. _

Minhyuk found conference room four and held the door open for her, gestured for her and her six - he counted them - attorneys to enter.

Sajangnim, Team-jangnim, Manager, and three people who looked like lawyers were arrayed on one side of the conference table. For once, Sajangnim was sitting. He’d been chatting with Team-jangnim, but as soon as he saw Yoona, he straightened up, startled.

Yoona sat in the middle of the other side of the conference table, her attorneys arrayed on either side of her.

Minhyuk hovered at the door, unsure whether his presence was necessary or not.

“Minhyuk-ssi,” Manager said. “This discussion involves you.”

Minhyuk perched tentatively in the chair at the end of the table closest to the door.

“We need some way to make sure we all understand what Minhyuk-ssi is saying,” Manager said. 

Yoona held out her phone. “He can text me and everyone can read the messages. You can hook a phone up to a monitor, right?”

Team-jangnim jumped up and poked her head out the door, and a moment later an intern scurried in with a monitor. There was some fumbling, and finally Yoona’s phone was hooked up to the screen.

“Send a message to make sure it works,” she said to Minhyuk.

He nodded and sent one that simply said  _ Noona. _

“Little Cousin?” Sajangnim asked in disbelief.

Minhyuk stared. In fact, if the image on the monitor was to be believed, his name in Yoona’s phone was 💜Little Cousin💜 and the picture she’d assigned to his contact was…

Everyone leaned in to peer at it.

It was a picture of Minhyuk as a toddler and a girl maybe six years old holding him and smiling at the camera.

Manager squinted at Minhyuk. “That’s...actually you.”

Minhyuk nodded, a little stunned.

“We’re here today because Kang Yoona is interested in buying out Park Minhyuk’s contract,” one of Yoona’s lawyers said. She was beautiful enough to be an actress or model in her own right. “We’re here to negotiate the contract fees.”

“Buy out his contract?” Sajangnim echoed.

One of the other lawyers pushed a black binder across the table. “I’m sure you’ll find the offer eminently generous and reasonable.”

While Sajangnim and Team-jangnim and their lawyers all leaned in to peer at the contents of the binder, Manager turned to Minhyuk and raised his eyebrows.

Minhyuk shrugged helplessly. He had no idea what the papers in the binders said.

Yoona cast him a bright and professional but not entirely reassuring smile. 

Minhyuk had accepted her offer to further the song-sharer cause. This was all formalities. Was she trying to tell him something else?

He raised his eyebrows at her, but one of the lawyers leaned in to whisper to her, and she turned away.

Sajangnim lifted his head and looked at Minhyuk. “Is this offer acceptable to Minhyuk-ssi?”

Minhyuk was, he realized, the only person at the table who didn’t have a lawyer. He typed out,  _ I haven’t heard any better offers, so unless I hear one any time soon, noona’s offer is acceptable to me. _

Chances of his own company offering something better were slim, and this wasn’t really about him being Yoona’s choreographer. He would be her choreographer and dancer, of course, because she genuinely appreciated his talent, but she really needed him for the experiments, and he had to be free and clear of any financial obligations to the company so they wouldn’t come looking for him. He had to be just visible enough that he was moving on with his life, that no one would suspect he was doing anything else, but he had to have a flexible enough schedule that the scientists running the experiments could have access to him at will.

Sajangnim and Team-jangnim conferred with each other, and the company lawyers had a hurried conference as well.

Manager, however, looked concerned. “What about what Eunwoo-ssi said about a possible cure from the Songbirds?”

Minhyuk’s throat tightened. He typed out,  _ Nothing has worked so far. _

Manager sighed but nodded.

Minhyuk shrugged.

“One thing,” one of the company lawyers said. “Minhyuk-ssi’s relationship with Myungjun-ssi. While they’ve been teammates, it’s been against unspoken company policy. But once they’re no longer teammates, they can be afforded some degree of flexibility and protection.”

Yoona looked at Minhyuk.

He swallowed hard. Then he typed out,  _ It’s complicated. _

Because it was. He and Myungjun still loved each other, but every time Myungjun looked at Minhyuk, he felt guilty, and he couldn’t just forget years of pain and hatred against song-eaters, and Minhyuk’s sacrifice of his voice couldn’t undo the fact that he’d lied to everyone he loved for years.

The lawyers on both sides conferred amongst themselves.

Finally, one of Yoona’s lawyers said, “If both parties agree to pursue a relationship, we will of course assist in maintaining all necessary discretion.”

Someone made a note on one of the papers in the black leather binders. Lawyers from both sides initialed it.

Manager raised his eyebrows at Minhyuk. Did Myungjun know about their relationship status?

Minhyuk shrugged. Myungjun was probably even more confused than he was.

“Well,” one of the company lawyers said, “it is a generous offer. So, if Minhyuk-ssi is in agreement, we will proceed.”

He typed out,  _ I am in agreement. _

Another of Yoona’s lawyers smiled, perfectly sweet and shark-like. “Let’s.” She signed the final page in the binder. 

One of the company lawyers signed the final page in the binder.

Yoona handed the binder to Minhyuk personally. “Take your time, cousin,” she said. “Read it over carefully.”

He nodded and accepted the binder, and then he did read. Carefully. Best as he could tell, the new contract with Yoona mirrored the terms of his original contract in terms of pay and length, but extended it for a time so he could repay the buyout of his original contract. The offer was quite generous - he was being given wide latitude to select dancers and dance training staff and choreograph songs and coordinate with Yoona personally, and he had first right of refusal on the role of lead male dancer in any performance that required one.

He signed, and he offered the binder back to Yoona with a respectful bow.

She smiled and accepted it. “Excellent. See you at work in six days, little cousin.”

He nodded.

Yoona unhooked her phone from the monitor and tucked it into her terribly stylish clutch purse, thanked Sajangnim for doing business, and everyone rose and bowed and bade each other farewell, and then Yoona and her lawyers swept out of the room, no doubt scattering staff and interns and trainees and artists in the hallway once more.

Manager turned to Minhyuk. “This is terrible, but I feel like you just got purchased like a fine horse.”

Minhyuk shrugged and sent him a text.  _ Noona is kind of scary but she means well. _

Manager came to stand closer to him. “How are you doing?”

Minhyuk made a so-so gesture.

Manager sighed and patted his shoulder.

Minhyuk managed a smile. He picked up his dance bag and headed for the door. 

On the way to the practice room, he spotted the others in one of the bigger practice rooms. He recognized the music immediately and paused, slipped into the studio to watch.

The five of them looked good, smooth, synchronized as always, but he could see from their faces that they were thinking very hard about their new formations. Their facial expressions and gestures were less natural and fluid, especially for the new parts they were picking up.

The song ended, and Sanha collapsed to the floor with a groan.

Myungjun collapsed beside him with a theatrical moan of, “Water!”

Minhyuk cast about and spotted Myungjun’s neon yellow sports water bottle, the one decorated with duck stickers, and scooped it up, brought it to him.

“Thanks,” Myungjun said, taking a long pull, and then he did a double take. “What are you doing here? Why are you all dressed up?”

Minhyuk whistled the tune of Yoona’s newest single, and then the chorus of Day6’s Dance Dance.

Myungjun lit up. “You accepted her offer?”

Minhyuk smiled and nodded.

Dongmin cast him a look. He’d seen the news story about Miyeon. He knew Yoona was making some kind of move. What move was Commander Cha making? 

“Were you about to go do dance practice?” Jinwoo asked.

Minhyuk nodded.

“Practice here, show us what you’ve got,” Bin said. “It’ll give us a chance to take a break, and we can give you some feedback.”

Minhyuk smiled and hurried into the locker room to get changed. While he stretched out and warmed up, the others talked over the progress they’d made. The concert was in five days. They had three days to get their performances down, one day of dress rehearsals plus camera rehearsals and filming pre-recorded segments, and then the big day.

“You’ll be there, right, hyung?” Sanha asked.

Minhyuk nodded and grinned and mimed waving signs, and the others laughed.

“The signs better look pretty,” Dongmin said. “Our fans make really pretty signs. You’ll have to do them proud.”

“I’ll help,” Myungjun said. “I do have golden hands.”

Minhyuk smiled and leaned over and kissed him briefly, which made the others groan and roll their eyes, but then he pushed himself to his feet and hooked his phone into the music system. He cued up the song and found his starting pose, and he was nervous. This was the first time he’d performed this for anyone. Even though he’d had every intention of posting a video of this online for fans to see, he’d never quite appreciated that he’d have an audience for it.

He’d danced for an audience hundreds of times. He’d danced for huge crowds. Videos of him dancing were memorialized on the internet for anyone to see. This was a far cry from his first time choreographing a piece. But his teammates watching him like this felt different, and he didn’t know why.

Maybe because this piece meant goodbye.


	27. Chapter 27

The music started, and he moved.

As a ballad, it was never intended to have choreography like this, but he’d started slow, in the piano line, only drifting into the vocal line in intervals until the verse built into Bin’s part, and then when the chorus arrived he sank into Sanha’s voice, and he stayed in Myungjun’s voice.

_ You were my first love, my clumsy love _

_ My love that I was thankful for _

When the rap verse arrived, he retreated back to the beat, accenting it until the chorus arrived.

Telling a story with a dance was a balance of conveying emotion with his body, accentuating the lyrics he wanted to emphasize, and also giving the music a new dimension.

Minhyuk was saying goodbye, and he was sorry, and he was grateful for the time he’d had with his team and with the fans, and he knew they’d be sad but he wanted them to be happy in the future.

The song ended, and he held his final pose till the song looped back around to the opening piano riff, and he hurried to turn off the music.

Then he planted himself in front of the others and spread his arms to say,  _ Well, lay it on me. _

“It’s good,” Dongmin said. “Really good.”

“I like how you do something different for the two choruses but combine it for the last one,” Sanha said.

Minhyuk smiled and inclined his head gratefully. He looked at Bin and Jinwoo.

“It’s beautiful,” Bin said quietly. “The fans will really love it. It might make them cry, but they’ll appreciate it a lot. I - do you have video? I’d need to watch it a few more times to have better feedback.”

Minhyuk nodded and flashed Bin an okay sign. He’d send along the video he had.

“Do you have a concept?” Jinwoo asked.

Minhyuk nodded and flashed him an okay sign as well, and whistled the chorus for Knock.

Myungjun raised his eyebrows. “A time-traveler concept?”

Minhyuk nodded and shrugged, made a so-so gesture, then used his fingers to mime walking.

“A stroll down memory lane,” Myungjun said, and Minhyuk nodded more vigorously.

Jinwoo’s expression was thoughtful. “Okay.” He flashed Minhyuk a smile. “You’re looking good. Good job. You’ve worked hard. Now we’d better get back to it.”

Minhyuk nodded and disconnected his phone from the music system, grabbed his dance bag. He had more work to do, too, in a smaller practice room.

They broke for lunch together, and then Minhyuk worked on his second dance. After that, one of the stylists brought him the rest of his old costumes, and he sorted them out, some for packing, some to use in his goodbye video. The very oldest ones were too small now - he was broader at the hips and shoulders, a little longer in the arms and legs - but he could use pieces of them to capture the feeling of them, like the green Girl Power basketball jersey from the debut showcase, and the light gray cardigan from Confession.

Once he’d made a selection that he thought best represented the team’s timeline, he folded the rest and set them aside.

Then he sat looking at them for a long time. He’d had to be so careful of those clothes while he was in the waiting room, or when he wasn’t performing, but when he was on stage or in front of the cameras, he had to give it his all and damn the consequences - as evidenced by the time Bin danced so hard during a relay that his pants ripped.

How long ago had that been?

Only a few weeks ago.

Minhyuk buried his face in his hands and laughed silently.

His life had turned upside down.

“Hey, are you all right?”

He lifted his head.

Bin was peeking in the door.

Minhyuk nodded and gestured at the array of costumes. 

“Ah,” Bin said wisely. “We’re about ready to head back to the dorms, if you want to come with. Do you need a hand?”

Minhyuk nodded again - had he nodded this much before? - and Bin called for the others, and soon they had all the costumes for packing bundled up. Bora, Bomi, and Seolwoo met them at the door and escorted them to the van, and they all rode back to the dorm together.

While the others took turns showering, Jinwoo ordered food. Bin helped Minhyuk pack his costumes into boxes. Someone on the style team had thought to include little blocks of cedar wood to help keep the moths away. Bin talked softly, revisiting fond memories of their different comebacks and tours he folded the clothes,  _ Remember when? _ And  _ We were all so tired _ and  _ We worked so hard _ and  _ But it felt so good. _

Minhyuk smiled at him and patted his shoulder.

Bin sniffled and patted Minhyuk’s shoulder. “I’m sorry I’m being like this. We still have a while yet. And it’s not like we’ll never see each other. We’re kind of on the same promotion schedule as Yoona-sunbaenim. Plus, with everything else that’s going on.”

Minhyuk squeezed Bin’s arm gently and mouthed,  _ I know. _

Sanha hollered when the food arrived, and they gathered around to watch the video of Minhyuk’s dance performance while they ate. The others chimed in with feedback, suggestions about how he might use his space a bit better.

Minhyuk wrote on Myungjun’s wrist for him to speak aloud,  _ I was thinking of filming myself multiple times and editing it together, so I was my own team, like when I was a trainee. _

Sanha lit up. “I could help you edit that.”

Jinwoo’s expression turned thoughtful. “How many were you thinking?”

_ Different numbers at different times, as the song demands. Never more than six. _

“I like it,” Bin said.

Myungjun curled his fingers through Minhyuk’s and squeezed. “That’s really beautiful.”

As on previous evenings, they sat in a circle and meditated, and Bin led them in a visualization exercise.

Minhyuk could feel all their eyes on him as he focused.

He could hear his own voice in his mind, clear as day.

_ Myungjunnie, I love you. _

He could see disappointment on their faces when he opened his eyes, clear as day.

Myungjun retreated to the bedroom.

“Let him go,” Jinwoo said quietly.

Minhyuk sighed. He ended up going to sit on the balcony and watching sign language videos on his phone. This was going to be the rest of his life. But it was worth it, because Myungjun was alive. He sat up straighter and started poking around to see if he could figure out how to say  _ I love you. _

The balcony door slid open.

“Minhyukie, I’m not mad at you.” Myungjun sank down next to him. “I just - your mother was right. This is all my fault.” 

Minhyuk shook his head quickly. He leaned in and kissed Myungjun, forestalling further conversation. Myungjun kissed him back. Then he hummed into the kiss. He was trying to give Minhyuk his voice. Minhyuk pulled back and sighed, shook his head. 

He rose, offered his hand to Myungjun, and together they headed to bed. 

As they lay in the darkness, Myungjun asked, “Are we back together or not? Are we going to be like Nayoung and Jinwoo, or when you leave, will it be the end?”

Minhyuk gathered Myungjun into his arms and thought for a long, long time. Finally, he whispered, “If I never get my voice back, will you ever stop feeling guilty?”

Myungjun said nothing, and they fell asleep in the heavy silence.

* * *

The next day, the others went to practice early. Minhyuk packed some more, and then he went to do his own dance practice. He recorded the six versions needed for the final cut. Over a notepad and several colored pens, Minhyuk had a discussion with the style department about what he wanted, and a couple of the girls did his hair and makeup, subtle and neutral and as close to natural as possible, so it’d look decent no matter what outfit he was wearing, and then it was time to film.

Because he was playing the part of six different dancers, he had to dance on a background that was easy to edit around, even though he did his best to hit his marks so he wouldn’t be dancing over himself too much. Unlike the three-in-one version he’d done as a trainee, he wasn’t just dancing for a steady cam doing a wide shot, and filming took the better part of a day.

By the time he was finished, he was exhausted, but he had a chance to look over the footage, and he was pleased. Chances were Sanha wouldn’t be able to help with the edits either, because it would be beyond his capabilities, but his heart had been in the right place with the offer. 

“It looks good, Rocky-ssi,” the cameraman said, checking the monitor.

Minhyuk bowed politely.

“Hopefully we can have this finished in the next couple of days.”

Minhyuk nodded and waved, and he headed for the showers.

The others met him at the locker room door.

On the way back to the dorm, Dongmin asked, “Have you finished your letter?”

Minhyuk reached into his book bag for his notebook and flipped it open to the final draft and held it out. Dongmin read it over carefully, murmuring under his breath.

“It’s good,” he said. “Sincere. Honest without saying too much.” Dongmin cast a glance at Myungjun, who was staring out the window. He’d only greeted Minhyuk distantly.

Minhyuk sent Dongmin a text.  _ Will you help me translate it into English? For the international fans. _

Dongmin smiled. “Of course. Maybe Sanha can help you with a Japanese translation.”

Sanha perked up when he heard his name. “What about me?”

“You can help Minhyuk translate his goodbye letter into Japanese.”

Sanha’s expression dimmed, but he nodded. “Sure, hyung. I’ll help.”

Supper was a quiet affair. Myungjun would barely look at Minhyuk, said little to him, and Minhyuk could tell the others were getting anxious about it. So Minhyuk took it upon himself to gather everyone around and lead the meditation before bed. 

He tried the visualization, just like Bin had taught him.

_ Myungjunnie, I love you. _

When he opened his eyes, none of them were looking at him.

He sighed, and he beckoned to Myungjun.

No response.

He tapped Myungjun’s knee.

Myungjun peeked up at him.

Minhyuk beckoned again. Myungjun scooted so he was sitting directly opposite Minhyuk. Minhyuk gestured for him to begin deep breathing, and then he mimed writing with a pen and paper. Jinwoo scrambled for a notebook and pen, and Minhyuk wrote out a set of instructions, the ones his grandmother had given him when she was teaching him how to share a song he’d drunk. Then Minhyuk handed the notebook to Bin.

“Me?” Bin asked.

“Read it,” Dongmin said.

“Oh.” Bin cleared his throat. “Myungjun, start humming.”

Myungjun opened one eye. “What?”

“Just do it,” Sanha hissed.

Myungjun closed his eyes and started humming a trot song he liked.

“Focus on where you feel your voice in your body,” Bin said.

That wasn’t difficult for singers to do, since they needed to understand their chest voice versus their head voice versus their mixed voice, and Myungjun was a good singer.

“Now, imagine you can feel your voice expanding and filling your whole body.”

For a moment, Myungjun’s voice wavered, because he actually shifted his voice from his chest to his head, but then he regained control of his voice.

Bin’s voice took on a bit of a lulling quality, and Jinwoo, Sanha, and Dongmin closed their eyes, their breath deepening.

“Pull your voice back in so it’s only in your throat, like a little ball of golden light.”

The quality of Myungjun’s voice didn’t change, but his expression did, ever so slightly.

“Now...let your voice flow out through your mouth,” Bin said.

Myungjun parted his lips, and his voice was louder for a moment.

Bin nudged Minhyuk. “Now what?”

Minhyuk scooped up the pen.  _ That’s how he’d share his voice. _

Myungjun opened his eyes. “Now what?”

Bin showed him the notebook.

Myungjun’s eyes lit up. “Really?” He started humming and dragged Minhyuk in close for a kiss.

“Yah,” Jinwoo protested.

It didn’t work, of course, but it made the others laugh for some reason, and when Minhyuk and Myungjun finally tumbled into bed, Myungjun was smiling.

* * *

Minhyuk finished packing the next morning. But for the bare essentials to get through the next few days - clothes, toiletries - everything was in boxes. He texted Yoona to ask her where he ought to have his things sent so he could arrange for delivery, and she said she’d take care of it, and also she’d send a car for him when it was time for him to go.

Instead of heading straight to the company, Minhyuk went to an art supply store to buy supplies to make signs for the concert. On the bus there, he looked up poster ideas on his phone, as far as designs and clever slogans, as well as basic supplies so he could be as cost-efficient as possible. He wrote out a list of what he wanted on his phone so he could show it to the store clerk in case he couldn’t find anything himself, but by the time he emerged from the store with posterboard, paint pens, glitter, scissors, and tape, he was frustrated and exhausted and more than a little grumpy, and on the bus to the company the seat beside him remained empty, and not just because he had a shopping bag on it.

He took over one of the small conference rooms and spread out his supplies, rolled up his sleeves, and set to work. He made posters for each of his teammates individually, and he used their colors from the Baby music video because that was cute, and he also used lots of glitter, and he made a poster for the team as a whole. He’d just put the finishing touches on the glittering green turtle on Jinwoo’s sign when Manager poked his head into the conference room, wearing a pinched expression.

“I think maybe you should come see this,” he said.

Minhyuk nodded and set down the glitter tube, rolled down his sleeves. He followed Manager down the hallway and saw plenty of people were pressed up against the windows, staring at something down on the street. Minhyuk headed for the windows, but Manager shook his head and guided Minhyuk to the stairs, and they headed for the street that way.

They emerged on the sidewalk where a substantial crowd was gathered. 

There was a wall of reporters, cameras clicking madly. Minhyuk craned his neck to peer past them, and there was - 

Commander Cha Eunsong, wearing the sleek black outfit Minhyuk always associated with Songbirds, and of course she was wearing fancy silver jewelry as well. He couldn’t help but shiver. She was flanked by other women in similar black outfits.

Dongmin stood with the Songbirds. He also wore all black, and he also wore his silver Songbird jewelry, though he mostly just looked like he was dressed up for business as usual like an idol, with chains draped across his shirt and his ear-cuffs and rings and bracelets and necklaces.

“ - Pleased to award Lee Dongmin with the rank of Captain in the Cha Clan Songbirds,” Commander Cha was saying. “In light of his recent defeat of an ancient and long-hunted song-eater of considerable strength and ferocity.”

Dongmin’s expression was unreadable.

There was polite applause from the other Songbirds.

Commander Cha stepped forward, and Dongmin stepped forward, bowed, and Commander Cha draped a fancy silver chain over his head - a newer, better weapon? A rank insignia? - and stepped back, and Dongmin straightened up.

Commander Cha resumed her place between her two lieutenants and raised her voice once more. “At this time, we are announcing our initiative to help the people of this country improve their safety by shedding the old traditions of operating in silence and by increasing transparency. If song-eaters know that every man, woman, and child has basic Songbird training, they’ll think twice about preying on innocent humans. To that end, we will be opening the first Songbird hagwon for boys and girls of all ages and skill levels, regardless of whether they possess Songbird magic. It will be a combination of martial arts and basic awareness and safety training, and the initiative will be led by our newest captain.”

Commander Cha beamed at her son and looked like nothing more than a proud mother.

Dongmin was an impeccable actor, and he bowed and blushed, looking like nothing more than a flattered son.

Commander Cha said, “I know my son is very busy with his career and promotional work, but I’m sure his company will understand that his duties to his country are very important.”

Manager sucked in a breath.

No wonder this press conference was being held right outside of the company building. The excuse would be, of course, that it was the only thing they could manage with Dongmin’s busy schedule. But really it was a challenge to the company, a message. That Dongmin was a Songbird first and foremost, and the Songbirds had command of his time and person.

Dongmin was probably exhausted from dance practice all morning as it was.

Minhyuk’s phone buzzed in his pocket. 

Text message from Yoona.

_ The long game begins. _

He sighed and shoved his phone back into his pocket.

Commander Cha had no time for questions; her office would issue a written FAQ for distribution later; her son had a concert to prepare for. Her two lieutenants escorted Dongmin straight to the door of the company, keeping the reporters at bay all the while.

Manager and Minhyuk ducked back in the side door and hurried up the stairs. They managed to intercept Dongmin as he was on his way to the locker room.

“I want food,” was all Dongmin said, before slamming his way into the locker room, tearing off his jewelry and what was apparently his Songbird uniform.

Minhyuk and Manager hovered in the doorway, hesitant. They didn’t want anyone to see him like this, but they didn’t know what to do, either. Dongmin finally made it back into his dance practice clothes, and he sank down on the bench in front of his locker.

“I’m fine,” he said to Manager. “I’m just - I’m fine.”

A person would have to be blind to see that Dongmin wasn’t fine, but Manager probably had no clue what Dongmin was stressed about.

Minhyuk sent Manager a message.  _ Can you go check on the food? I’ve got this. _

Manager nodded and ducked out of the locker room.

Minhyuk sat down on the bench beside Dongmin.

“How did you cope?” Dongmin asked. “With knowing everything that was going on and just pretending everything was fine? With getting onstage and smiling and knowing that everywhere you turned, people were waiting for you to misstep, to reveal your true nature? That you couldn’t trust the people you were supposed to care about most?”

Minhyuk wrote on Dongmin’s knee.  _ I didn’t, really. _

Dongmin buried his face in his hands. “How am I going to do this when you’re gone?”

Minhyuk sighed. Finally, he wrote,  _ Trust the others. Let them help you. _

Dongmin lifted his head. “I can’t really complain, can I? You’ll be working just as hard as me, leading a double life all over again -”

Minhyuk cut him off with a shake of his head.  _ There’s no need to compare. Just do your best, and hold on. All we can do is hold on and do our part and trust noona to do the rest. She’s been working her entire life for this. _

“And my mother and my entire clan have been working my entire life for this, too.”

Minhyuk looked at him for a long time.  _ Have you thought about talking to your father? Or your brother? _

“Have you thought about talking to yours?”

Minhyuk looked away.

Bin poked his head into the locker room. “Hey. The food’s here.”

Dongmin pushed himself to his feet. “I really am hungry. It’s not just - feelings. Let’s go.”

They were sitting in a comfortable circle on the practice room floor, sharing Chinese food, when someone from the AR team came in with a tablet in hand. 

“Ah, Minhyuk-ssi,” he said. “We have a preliminary draft of the video done, if you’d like to see.” He held the tablet out.

Minhyuk bowed and offered the man a bright smile, then accepted the tablet. 

The others gathered around to see, so Minhyuk set it out where they could all get a good look.

Minhyuk was pleased with how it turned out. The editing was seamless, the different versions of him moving as a unit but also moving together as sub-units, as if they were interacting, and the effect made him smile. 

When the video ended, Minhyuk sat back. He was satisfied, but he looked at the others for their input.

“It’s - wow,” Jinwoo said. “You did a really good job with that.”

Bin squeezed his shoulder. “You should be proud of yourself. You really outdid yourself for that.”

“Sort of literally,” Dongmin said, and Myungjun laughed.

Minhyuk handed the tablet back.

“What should I tell the AR team?” the AR staff man asked. 

“You can tell them it’s fine,” Jinwoo said.

The man bowed and left the practice room.

When the door swung shut behind him, Dongmin said, “Sanha and I won’t forget to help you with your letter translation.”

Myungjun said, “But when your voice comes back, you won’t need the letter. You should still post the video, though. It looks so cool.”

Minhyuk ducked his head to avoid the look that Dongmin shot him. 

“We should let the food settle, and then we should keep on practising,” Jinwoo said, and the others nodded. 

“Did you make posters?” Sanha asked Minhyuk as they cleared away the takeout containers. 

Minhyuk nodded. 

“Are they pretty?”

Minhyuk whistled the chorus of Shinee’s Noona’s So Pretty, and Sanha looked skeptical, but Minhyuk just shrugged. 

“While we’re waiting for the food to settle, let me look at the letter,” Dongmin said. 

Minhyuk nodded and pointed to his book bag, and Dongmin went to dig around in it. He called for Sanha to help him. While Dongmin and Sanha were distracted, Minhyuk beckoned to Jinwoo. 

“What is it?”

Minhyuk held out his phone to show Jinwoo the video of the other song he’d choreographed a dance to. Bin crowded in to see, also curious. 

“Was this going to be your backup or something?” Bin looked at Minhyuk when the video finished, his expression opaque.

_ Sort of,  _ Minhyuk mouthed. He tapped Jinwoo’s shoulder and mimed filming. 

Jinwoo nodded. “This one I can help you with. We can probably do it in a couple of takes. You have a costume and concept picked out?” 

Minhyuk nodded. 

“After the concert,” Jinwoo said. “It’ll be nice to just...be behind the camera.”

It’d be Minhyuk’s last performance as one of the team.

Once the food was settled, the others resumed dance practice. Minhyuk went back to the conference room to pack up his leftover poster-making supplies, which he donated to the interns. He bundled up the posters very carefully and gave them to Manager to make sure they’d make it to the concert venue - and that his teammates wouldn’t see them prior to the show. 

Then he tracked down his hoobaes and asked them to sign their latest album for his little brother, which they did graciously. They asked him if it was true, that he was going to work as Yoona’s personal choreographer, and he confirmed it. They hugged him and told them they’d miss him, and he told them he’d miss them too.

He practiced his second dance a few more times, making sure he could feel it in his bones, that as soon as he turned on the music he could flow to it. 

Even though today Myungjun was smiling more, things between them were still strange, and with Commander Cha’s announcement today, everything felt just a little bit surreal, and dancing helped Minhyuk feel grounded again.

But they all rode home together at the end of the day, and they had supper together, and afterwards they meditated together.

“Bin, read the thing,” Myungjun said, plopping down in front of Minhyuk directly.

Bin dutifully read what Minhyuk had written for him the night before, only this time Myungjun sang Bloom, because it was a song he’d helped write and he knew it well. When Myungjun leaned in, Minhyuk closed his eyes and parted his lips. While they were making love, kissing away Myungjun’s moans was sexy. Myungjun singing into his mouth was just weird.

And nothing happened after, when Minhyuk tried visualizing himself speaking.

“We just need more time,” Myungjun said. “Even if it doesn’t work right away, it could be like a really long-term injury. A broken spine or something - those can take months to heal, right? And then you could come back. Yoona would let you come back, wouldn’t she?”

The others exchanged looks but said nothing. Even though Myungjun’s tone was bright and hopeful, none of them had missed the brittle, desperate edge to it.

Minhyuk kissed Myungjun softly and helped him to his feet, and together they headed for the bathroom to brush their teeth.

“You’d come back, right?” Myungjun said. “If you got your voice back.”

Minhyuk smiled, because if he got his voice back, he would.

But it was never coming back.

* * *

The others were gone for venue rehearsals long before Minhyuk woke. They’d probably stumbled to the van, still in their pajamas, to head to the venue to get a feel for the stage, so the tech crew and camera crew would be prepared, so they’d have the lighting cues set.

What would Minhyuk do with his day? He had one video completed, and his letter plus the translations done. He’d have to run the letter past the PR team, but he doubted they’d find anything objectionable in it, since this wasn’t his first time writing a letter for the fan cafe. He ate breakfast, showered, and dressed, and Yoona texted him. Someone would be by to pick up his belongings to move to his new apartment. He’d be given keys and a lease to sign. Where would he even be living? Would he get to know his own address? But he texted back an affirmative and thanked her.

While Minhyuk puttered around the dorm, shifting the boxes from his room to a pile near the front door, he contemplated what else he ought to do with his day. He’d drop the letter and translations off with the PR department, he’d do a dress rehearsal (with a video draft) of his second dance piece. And then what?

He thought of Dongmin’s drama that they’d buckled down and watched, how in one episode the two main characters had pulled on their high school uniforms and gone and done all the things they’d wished they could do as high school students that they hadn’t done, she because she’d been socially isolated due to bullying, him because he’d been socially isolated due to his own emotional issues.

What regular high school things had Minhyuk missed out on due to being a trainee? Granted, plenty of the other students at his high school had been trainees. He hadn’t been the only one to miss school trips and things like that, to show up to class exhausted because he’d been up all night doing pre-recording for a broadcast show.

What Minhyuk hadn’t been allowed to do, that he’d tentatively done the last few days, was just wander around on his own. Between promotions and schedules, he’d always had to check in with someone about where he was, usually Jinwoo, but often Manager as well, just so he could be located in case of an emergency - or accounted for if a scandal broke out and he needed an alibi. Over the last few days, he’d more or less restricted his travel to places that were useful to his tasks, like shopping, though he’d ventured to restaurants that held nostalgic value.

When was the last time he’d gone for a walk just to walk? Without having a destination in mind, without telling anyone where he was going, just because?

He couldn’t remember.

Possibly never, since before he’d entered training he’d been too young to wander off on his own without at least telling his mother where he was going, and Minseok would have wanted to follow him anyway.

So he resolved to do just that. 

Once the moving crew took his boxes, he’d drop his letters off at the company, and he’d go for a walk. Not near the company, because he’d have a greater chance of being recognized. Some more ambitious fans knew where the company was located and hung around the building, hoping to glimpse their favorites.

Minhyuk poked around on his phone, considering destinations, and he had an idea. He went into his bedroom to poke through his suitcase and what clothes he had remaining when the door buzzed.

The moving crew was here.

It was Bora who sent him a text message with a picture of a man in a uniform. It looked like a picture of an ID badge.

_ Yoona-unnie says this is who’s scheduled to come move your boxes. Make sure it’s him. _

Minhyuk, who’d been about to buzz the person in, paused. He hit the button so he could see who the person was on the camera, and sure enough, it matched the picture, so he sent Bora a quick thanks and buzzed the person up.

The moving crew was three men who looked unimpressed with Minhyuk’s small pile of boxes, but they moved them quickly, made an inventory of them on a datapad, had him sign the datapad, had him sign a lease, gave him a set of keys and an envelope with a copy of the lease (which had the address of the apartment on it, thankfully; it was in a neighborhood near Yoona’s company building, which made sense), and departed.

And like that, Minhyuk was free.

He packed some nicer clothes in his dance bag, ones he looked good in but that wouldn’t make him look too overdressed while he was out and about, and he threw in some battery packs for his phone while he was at it, and he grabbed his bookbag and headed for the company.

First stop: the PR offices. It was the same young man who’d spotted him dancing the other day who accepted the notebook with the letter in it. He looked impressed that Minhyuk had had the foresight to have translations done; Minhyuk wrote a note asking for help with a Chinese translation. The young man nodded, and Minhyuk headed to the practice room.

One of the stylists had hung a garment bag in front of his locker, and he checked it. 

It was the original costume from the music video for Always You. It was one of Minhyuk’s favorites because he liked how it flowed when he danced, and he liked the subtle message to Myungjun in the wearing of it, from the final line of the chorus:  _ the one I love is you. _

He pulled it on to check the fit, wriggled his shoulders and hips, did a few test stretches, and it seemed all right, so he headed for the practice room. He warmed up by turning on a random play dance mix on YouTube and bopping along half-heartedly, though he considered it a personal victory when he knew every single dance.

Then he turned on the camera, and he turned on the real music, and he moved.

After the song ended, he held his final pose, for one breath, two breath, three breaths.

And then the song started again, and he shut off the camera.

He shut off the music, and he sent the video from the camera to his phone over Bluetooth. While the video was sending, he checked the playback. The lighting wasn’t great, and the background wasn’t the best color for his costume, but all in all it was a good take. It’d require some editing, but he was pleased with the performance.

He headed for the locker room to shower and change. He delivered the costume to the style department for cleaning, and then he set off, free as a bird for the first time ever, no obligations, no concerns, just himself.

In their brief time together, he and Myungjun had never been on a real date. Jinwoo and Nayoung had managed it plenty of times, mostly because Jinwoo sprang for dates at really nice places that had privacy where people couldn’t just gawk - and where staff were known for their discretion (if he was recognized at all; there were perks to being the lesser-known members of a team). Minhyuk didn’t know if he and Myungjun would ever get to go on a real date, let alone the kind that he’d been taught to dream about by watching dramas.

So Minhyuk was going to take Myungjun on a virtual date. 


	28. Chapter 28

The first stop for their virtual date was the color museum. Myungjun loved bright and colorful things, and Minhyuk could run around and take pictures and videos of himself having a good time. On the bus to the museum, he wrote messages in his notebook in lieu of narration for the videos. Minhyuk was hardly the only person there with a camera, as there were plenty of tourists, locals and foreigners alike, taking pictures and videos, so he did his best to smile and be cute and happy and hold up messages that said  _ This color reminds me of you _ and  _ This is the color of your smile _ and  _ This is the color of your kisses _ and  _ When I see this color I think of how much I love you. _

The museum itself was fun, and Minhyuk enjoyed himself, playing in the big pink ball pit, and cuddling the giant soft pink teddy bear, though when he took a selca he included the message  _ I’d rather be cuddling you. _ The watermelon swing was surprisingly fun. Minhyuk was daring, and whenever he encountered one of the colors from the Baby music video, he’d do a bit of the choreography and wink at the camera.

Next stop was the Arc N Book, because Myungjun enjoyed books more than people thought. Of course, Minhyuk took artful selcas and video of himself wandering through the beautiful lit book arch, but then he actually slowed down and took time to find a book. In the end he had a written conversation with one of the employees, a patient girl who looked like a university student, and found a poetry book he thought Myungjun might like. Then he tucked himself into a window alcove overlooking the river and read till he found a poem that made him feel.

He straightened up, cleared his throat, and turned on his camera. Then he held it up, leaned in, and whispered while he read.

When he finished, he smiled at the camera, then cut the video. He bought the book, scribbled a message on the blank page in the front, and it was on to the next venue.

He had tteokbokki for lunch at a well-known restaurant, and he made sure to take a few pictures and videos so Myungjun could share the experience with him. He stopped off for a drink at an LP bar, because Myungjun had good memories of listening to his grandparents’ old records with Myungsoon. Minhyuk put in a request for one of Myungjun’s favorite songs, and when it came on he filmed himself sipping his drink and mouthing along with the lyrics, grinning.

“Not gonna sing along, son?” the middle-aged man beside him asked.

Minhyuk tapped the corner of the napkin on which he’d written a note to the bartender.

_ Am mute. Not deaf. Name’s Minhyuk. _

“Oh,” the man said.

Minhyuk shrugged and kept on drinking, then winked at the camera.

“You seem like you know what singing is like, though,” the man said once Minhyuk was done recording the video.

Minhyuk scribbled out,  _ I used to sing. _

“Oh yeah? You just changed your mind?”

_ Song-eater did it for me. _

The man swore and fumbled an apology.

Minhyuk shrugged and turned away, let out a low whistle. The bartender turned to him. Minhyuk inclined his head politely, put down some cash, and hopped off his barstool. He - and Myungjun - had other places to go.

Namsan Tower was an obvious choice. It would be crowded with people, but it was kind of required for a date to be considered a truly romantic one. On the way there, Minhyuk bought a heart-shaped lock, and he thought long and hard before he wrote his wish on it.

_ I wish for you to always be happy and loved. _

He took pictures at the bottom of the tower, and he took pictures at the top. He took video of the view from the top, and video of himself adding his lock and wish. Then he knelt beside the lock and held up another pre-written message. 

_ One day we can come here together, but today, I am here for us. _

Then he tucked the camera into his book bag and leaned on the railing and looked out over the city and enjoyed the view. 

He did plan on having supper with the others, but there was still one more place he wanted to go before he headed home, and that was Sebitseom Island, to take pictures with the Love sign and the angel wings - and pick up a fancy Italian dessert for him and Myungjun to share.

He was on the bus headed back to the dorm when he received a message from Myungjun.

_ Stopped by the company but you weren’t there. Where are you? Manager doesn’t know and Jinwoo doesn’t know. Are you all right? _

Myungjun was probably worried, but Minhyuk didn’t feel guilty, because all day today, he’d been free. He’d been just Minhyuk, a young man free to go about the city and enjoy himself, without obligations or worries, living an ordinary and simple life: no fans, no song-sharers and Songbirds, no companies and managers; just his own two feet and wherever his heart desired.

_ I’m on my way back to the dorm. Will be there in time for supper. See you soon. _

Of course, he’d checked in with Myungjun periodically throughout the day, brief messages asking how camera rehearsals were going, but of course he’d received few replies, because while they were working, they were separated from their phones. Minhyuk knew the drill, and he didn’t mind the lack of replies.

_ All right. See you soon.  _ Myungjun sent him a smiling selca. He looked rumpled and exhausted but so, so beautiful.

Minhyuk couldn’t help but smile at the picture, so he sent a selca in return.

Back at the dorm, Minhyuk headed into the building just as Bora, Seolwoo, and Bomi were departing. He nodded at them and rode the elevator up to his floor, input the code for the door.

Dongmin recognized the bag he was carrying immediately.

“You went to Sebitseom?”

Minhyuk nodded and grinned.

Bin lit up. “You went to the Italian restaurant there? I hear their tiramisu is -”

Minhyuk held up a hand, and Bin fell silent. Minhyuk pointed to himself, then to Myungjun.

Sanha rolled his eyes. “The treat he bought is only for him and Myungjun.”

Bin pouted.

Minhyuk lifted out the little box of tiramisu with a flourish.

Myungjun came to stand beside him and slid an arm around his waist. “For you and me? Mmmm, smells delicious.”

“It does,” Bin said sourly.

Myungjun kissed Minhyuk softly on the mouth.

Minhyuk reached into the bag for the second box of cannolis, which he set on the counter beside the tiramisu. He pointed to Bin and the others.

“For us?” Bin pounced on it.

“One for each of us,” Dongmin said, elbowing him aside before he could eat all four pieces himself.

Minhyuk glanced at Jinwoo, raised his eyebrows to ask,  _ What’s for supper? _

“We’re eating a bunch of carbs tonight because we have to work hard tomorrow,” Jinwoo said, “so we ordered Chinese - rice, noodles, egg rolls, wontons, potstickers, steam buns, the whole thing.”

Minhyuk grinned. That sounded amazing.

After supper, Myungjun didn’t need Bin to talk him through sharing his voice; he could make the attempt himself. Minhyuk thought he felt  _ something _ when their mouths met, a faint spark, but after he visualized himself speaking, he opened his eyes and saw the same disappointment on his teammates’ faces.

When he and Myungjun retreated to the bedroom, Myungjun noticed the dearth of boxes for the first time.

He turned to Minhyuk, wide-eyed.

Minhyuk showed him the envelope with the new lease, and the new keys. Myungjun stared at the lease for a long time.

Minhyuk pulled Myungjun close and whispered in his ear. “You can come visit, like Jinwoo does with Nayoung, if you want.”

Myungjun didn’t respond, was utterly still in Minhyuk’s arms. 

Suddenly he surged into motion, captured Minhyuk’s mouth in a hungry kiss. Minhyuk stumbled back a step, fell onto the bed. Myungjun crawled on top of him, still kissing him, working his hands under Minhyuk’s clothes. Heat built between them, and Minhyuk closed his eyes and surrendered. They undressed quickly, and then they were skin on skin, mouths on mouths, and Myungjun murmured into every kiss,  _ I love you,  _ and Minhyuk ached because he couldn’t say it back, so he did his best to say it with his hands and his body.

They made love again and again, and Minhyuk swallowed Myungjun’s cries with his kisses when he came, because those belonged to him and him alone, and when they were finally spent and exhausted, they curled up together, hands clasped tightly between them, and fell asleep, the two of them against the world.

* * *

The next morning, when they woke, Myungjun couldn’t speak.

He opened his eyes and smiled at Minhyuk and went to say  _ Good morning _ and nothing came out, and he panicked. 

Minhyuk panicked.

Myungjun sat bolt upright and clawed at his throat, chest heaving. Then he flew at Minhyuk and hammered on Minhyuk’s chest with his tiny little fists, but Minhyuk shook his head in wordless denial, because he’d never drink Myungjun’s voice, and the two of them tumbled to the floor in a heap.

_ “Yah!” _

It was a furious and exhausted Jinwoo who threw open the door.

“What the hell? We still have half an hour more of sleep -” He swore more colorfully when he saw that both of them were naked.

Myungjun shoved Minhyuk away and gesticulated wildly at Jinwoo, one hand on his throat.

All the color drained out of Jinwoo’s face. “You lost your voice?”

It was a surprisingly sleepy Dongmin who shuffled into the room next, ostensibly to get some clean clothes to change into after his shower. “What’s going on?”

“Myungjun lost his voice.”

“From all that screaming last night? He needs a steam treatment and to drink some honey tea. Manager won’t be amused. But it can’t be that bad.” Dongmin’s voice was deep and rough from sleep.

“He’s lost it completely,” Jinwoo said.

Dongmin came fully awake in an instant.  _ “What?” _ He dropped to his knees beside Myungjun, put a hand on his shoulder. “Does it hurt?”

Myungjun shook his head.

Jinwoo turned to Minhyuk. “Could you have taken it? Accidentally?”

Minhyuk shook his head.

Dongmin said, “You took a bit of it once. When you kissed him for the first time.”

Minhyuk rolled his eyes and reached out, grabbed the notebook off of Dongmin’s desk, scribbled furiously, then held it up for them to see.  _ That was one time. I noticed straight away. I have better self-control now. I have excellent self-control during sex. _

“But...it’s sex,” Jinwoo said dubiously. “As the one other person on this team who has any on the regular, I would know. Also - also please put some clothes on.”

Minhyuk tugged on a t-shirt and some shorts, then scribbled some more.  _ You forget that even without having drunk any music, I’m twice as strong as a normal human. I have to be careful all the time. Joking around. Sparring. During sex. _

Jinwoo, Dongmin, and Myungjun all stared at the notebook.

“Oh,” Dongmin said faintly.

Minhyuk crossed his arms over his chest and glared.

Myungjun held his hands out for the notebook and pen. He wrote more slowly.  _ What now? _

Minhyuk made a strumming motion with his hands.

Dongmin frowned. “Sanha’s guitar? Why?”

Jinwoo shook his head, irritated. “Just go get it.”

Dongmin obeyed, and Myungjun pulled on some clothes.

Dongmin returned a moment later and plopped down on the floor beside the other three. “Now what?”

“Play it, obviously,” Jinwoo said.

Dongmin obeyed, his hands hesitant on the strings, because he hadn’t played in years, but as soon as the music hit the air, Minhyuk drank. The other three flinched as soon as the music wavered, but Dongmin kept on playing, and Minhyuk kept on drinking, and then he beckoned to Myungjun, who leaned in obediently.

Minhyuk closed his eyes and let the music spark between them, and he directed it into Myungjun’s voice, and sure enough, there was an emptiness, a hollowness. It was gaping, seemingly endless, but he did his best to pour the guitar music into it.

When he pulled back and opened his eyes, he tapped Myungjun’s shoulder, and Myungjun opened his eyes.

“Can you talk?” Jinwoo asked anxiously.

Myungjun cleared his throat, and then he managed the tiniest squeak. After that, nothing.

Minhyuk wrote in the notebook.  _ I can heal him. Call Manager, tell him Myungjun has a twenty-four hour flu bug or - something. I’ll hit the streets, harvest as much as I can from live buskers, and I’ll heal him tonight. If what I have at the end of the day isn’t enough, there will be more buskers out tonight. _

Dongmin shook his head. “When you drink a lot of music, you look inhumanly beautiful. A Songbird will spot you right away.”

_ Only a Songbird from Senior Command. They don’t patrol. I’m a man, remember? _

Dongmin bit his lip and looked just as anxious as Jinwoo.

Minhyuk wrote  _ Trust me _ and underlined it three times.

Dongmin took a deep breath. Then stood up, poked around on his desk. He knelt down again, and he held out several pieces of jewelry. His Songbird jewelry. 

“Any Songbird who spots you will recognize that this is from the Cha Clan. They’ll know that either you belong to the clan or have our protection, so. It’ll help. And maybe they’ll just assume that if you look really beautiful it’s because you’re a Cha.” Dongmin bit his lip and blushed a little.

Minhyuk nodded and made the gesture for  _ Thank you. _ And then he made a shooing gesture, and Jinwoo checked his watch and swore, and a very sleepy Bin was asking from the den,

“Hey, when do we have to leave?”

The rest of the team scrambled to dress and head out the door. Minhyuk let them go first, and then he took his time to shower, dress, and eat. He put on regular casual clothes, made sure he had his wallet, keys, and phone. He grabbed a mask and a cap, and then he hit the road. 

The two best places in the city to find buskers were Sinchon, because it was a university district and plenty of music students - dancers, musicians, and singers alike - were out busking to show off their talents, and Hongdae, which was a popular shopping and tourist spot where idol hopefuls looking to be discovered and scouted by talent companies plied their talents. Since Minhyuk was college-age, he wouldn’t stand out too much, and if he wandered around from performance to performance, it wouldn’t look too strange. If he checked out some of the dance performances, too, that would make sense. Even though Yoona’s company had in-house dancers, part of his contract gave him discretion to pick his own dancers, and he’d be less likely to be suspected of taking music from a musician or singer if he was standing at a nearby dance performance while he drank.

But he’d be in public, and he’d be alone, and he’d have to be very, very careful.

Despite the inherently perilous nature of his task today, being able to go out and about still felt freeing, and he was doing his best to enjoy it, mostly so he didn’t look too tense and grim, because other people would pick up on that, and then he’d seem suspicious, and that would make it more likely for him to get caught.

On the train on the way to Sinchon, he got a text from Bin.

_ Manager didn’t buy the story of a twenty-four hour flu since Myungjun doesn’t have any other symptoms, so Jinwoo had to throw you under the bus and said Myungjun was really loud while you two had marathon sex last night, and now you’re both in trouble. _

Bin accompanied the message with a wide-eyed blushing emoji and also several blinking TMI gifs and multiple exclamation points.

Bin did add,  _ I didn’t hear anything, though. _

Bin’s final message was,  _ I know you can heal him, but be careful. _

Minhyuk sent back a selca of himself saluting obediently, and then another with a reassuring smile. 

The best thing about subway stations was that there were buskers along plenty of the platforms, so Minhyuk could get started as soon as he stepped off the train at Sinchon. Live instruments tasted different from human voices, and when they were a band or a group, the richness of them combined was especially filling. Minhyuk smiled at the guitarist and dropped a handful of coins into her case, then headed for the escalator.

Out on the street, he tipped his head back and enjoyed the mid-morning sunlight. Live music was everywhere, so he headed for the first place that caught his ear, a short girl in funky plaid pants dripping with chains who was playing something fast and complicated on her violin. Her music tasted spicy and sharp, like vinegar and steel. It was so fast and so energetic that Minhyuk only needed a bit before he moved on.

There were whole bands, there were duos and trios and quartets, there were soloists singing with karaoke machines or with their own instruments. Most were mediocre. Some were good. A couple of them were amazing, and Minhyuk wondered who he should tell, his current company or Yoona’s company. He drank from every one of them, because he was still loyal to his team, and he loved Myungjun, but when they took breaks between numbers, he slid forward, and he typed out a message on his phone.

_ Hello, my name is Park Minhyuk. I’m mute, but I’m not deaf. What’s your name? _

He saw the way they’d look at him, the way they’d take in his pierced ears, the jewelry he was wearing, the fact that his hair wasn’t quite its natural color, and they’d talk to him, tell him their names and majors, what they hoped to achieve with their music. The violinist wanted to join a professional symphony orchestra, or a be studio musician with a recording company. The singer, though. He wanted to be an artist with an entertainment company.

Minhyuk smiled and was polite, filed the information away for later, and then he moved on. By the time he made it all the way through the busking district, word must have spread, because whenever he approached one of the musicians or singers, they spoke to him enthusiastically. A couple of the girls flirted with him.

As for the dancers, he was interested in someone who had a range of styles. There were tap dancers, jazz dancers, modern dancers, ballet dancers, and of course plenty of hip-hop and house dancers. There was even a really impressive bone-breaker dancer, and one high-flying acrobatic break dancer, and one of the best pop-and-lock dancers Minhyuk had ever seen. He asked for their names and contact information, and they were polite.

Through it all, Minhyuk gathered music, and he felt - strong. Light. Full of energy. Almost restless.

So when a group of girls started a random play dance, he decided to join in. He lingered on the sidelines, and a bunch of the other dance buskers stepped away from their busking spaces as well, shaking out their limbs. They were all warmed up.

These things were often filmed, so Minhyuk scanned the crowd for the camera person and shifted so he’d be closer to the back of the formation, and he waited for the first song.

Of course, the game started off with basics, classics every K-pop dance fan should know, and the impromptu dance floor was packed. There were cute girl-group songs, and there were popular boy-group songs. Then there were more energetic boy-group songs, and sexier girl-group songs. Then there were harder girl-group songs, and finally some conceptually difficult boy-group songs, and some songs by solo artists that were either notoriously sexy or notoriously difficult. The further the game went, the fewer dancers there were on the floor, but Minhyuk could see the same dancers coming out over and over again, and he was impressed with what he saw of their versatility and breadth of knowledge. The final test was recency, songs from recent comebacks - including Minhyuk’s team.

Only Minhyuk and three other people were on the dance floor for Knock, and he went all-out, hitting it hard. 

After that, Minhyuk didn’t know any of the newer songs because, well, he’d been a bit distracted by - everything else.

The young man standing beside him, the busker who’d been the impressive breakdancer, said, “Wow, you’re not even out of breath.”

Minhyuk blinked and looked down at himself, shrugged.

The man eyed him. “You’re a professional dancer, aren’t you? You look like one. The way you moved out there - that was next-level.”

Minhyuk was a professional dancer. He nodded.

“What are you doing out here? Just...looking?”

Minhyuk nodded again.

“I see.”

“Well, I hope you find what you’re looking for,” the man said.

Minhyuk smiled and inclined his head gratefully.

And then a murmur rose behind them, and Minhyuk heard his name.

_ Yeah, he said his name was Park Minhyuk, why? Well, he didn’t say it, he has a message on his phone, he’s mute. Not deaf, just mute. _

He turned instinctively, and he saw the girls who’d organized the random play dance clustered together, staring at him.

He smiled at them, inclined his head politely, tugged his mask on, and walked away.

Now, on to Hongdae.

* * *

At the end of the day, when the others walked into the dorm, they were clearly frazzled from a tense day of rehearsals, no doubt made all the more tense by the fact that their main vocalist couldn’t sing and the stress of the importance of their final costume and technical rehearsal.

“Today was terrible,” Sanha began.

Minhyuk yanked Myungjun to him and kissed him. Poured music into him.

Myungjun melted against him with a happy moan.

“Well, he’s definitely got his voice back,” Jinwoo muttered.

Minhyuk pulled back and mouthed,  _ Sorry. _

Waiting with all that energy buzzing under his skin had been difficult, to say the least. When he’d made it back from Hongdae, he’d done about a thousand sit-ups and push-ups and pull-ups and lunges, but to no avail.

Myungjun petted Minhyuk’s hair and gazed into his eyes. “I’ve felt that before, when we’ve kissed. You’ve given me music before, when I’ve been tired after practice, haven’t you? I remember you always used to listen to jazz while we were just hanging out, and I thought you just liked it.”

Minhyuk nodded, chest heaving like he’d just run a race.

Jinwoo rolled his eyes and tugged Myungjun’s sleeve. “Call Manager, tell him your voice is back so he can stop panicking. And you two. Sleep in separate rooms tonight. For all our sakes.”

Myungjun, already fishing his phone out of his pocket, pouted, but he nodded.

Jinwoo cast a look at Minhyuk, and he nodded his agreement.

Sanha flopped down on the sofa. “What about dinner? I’m hungry. Hyung, did you cook for us?”

Minhyuk had. He’d had so much energy that he’d bought half of the convenience store from Granny and cooked a pretty carb-loaded meal so they’d have the energy for final rehearsals and the performance tomorrow.

“He did,” Bin said, a little dreamily. “Can’t you smell it?”

Sanha sat up.  _ “Daebak. _ I didn’t even see.”

Jinwoo spotted the table laden with three different kinds of noodles, rice, buns, tteokbokki, bread rolls, pork, chicken, beef, fish, kimchi, kimbap, potstickers, dumplings, and four different kinds of vegetables, and said,

“You’re forgiven for last night. Completely.”

Dongmin squeezed Minhyuk’s shoulder. “I’m glad you made it home safe.”

Minhyuk nodded and smiled weakly. Carrying around all that energy had been a little nerve-wracking. Frightening. Because he’d felt so powerful, like he could fly, like he could do  _ anything. _

What would it have taken, for him to turn into a monster while he was riding that high?

Myungjun said, “Yes, Manager,” and he turned his phone on speaker, held it out so everyone else could hear.

“Minhyuk, what’s this about you being spotted in Sinchon doing a random play dance with a bunch of university students?”

Minhyuk fished his phone out of his pocket and typed out a response.  _ I went out for some fresh air and they were dancing so I joined in for fun.  _

“You danced to one of your own songs.”

_ I didn’t want to lose the game. _

“There are rumors that you were possibly scouting musicians and singers and dancers?”

_ My contract with noona does allow me to choose my own dancers. I was interested in seeing who was out there and also what’s popular on the streets. _

Manager sighed. “You were telling people that you’re mute but not deaf.”

_ To get them to talk to me on my own terms, yes. _

“Fans are wondering if it’s permanent.”

_ Fans are about to learn that it is. _

“You’re already not performing at the concert tomorrow as it is.”

_ The performance tomorrow will be amazing. Myungjun has his voice back. It’ll be fine. I’ll be there to cheer for them. Don’t forget to bring the posters. _

Manager sighed again. “I’ll put out what fires I can. See you tomorrow. Sleep well tonight. And  _ no sex. _ Or at least...no loud sex. I can’t believe I’m saying this. Good night.”

The call ended.

“Sinchon?” Jinwoo asked.

“There’s a lot of buskers there,” Dongmin said reasonably.

Bin and Sanha had already dug into the food. 

“Come on,” Bin said. “It’s delicious.”

The rest of them gathered around the table, and they ate.

“What do you think happened to Myungjun’s voice?” Sanha asked. “Do you really think he just strained it from yelling during, um, sex?” He blushed.

Dongmin frowned. “It was totally gone. If he’d strained it, his throat would have hurt, and he’d have been hurt, but it was totally gone. And Minhyuk, he’d have remembered drinking it.”

“I’m just glad Minhyuk could heal it - and that he was safe,” Jinwoo said.

Bin patted Minhyuk’s shoulder. “Me too. And really. This is delicious.”

“I never considered using Sanha’s guitar for you to drink from,” Dongmin said. “Obviously that’s less energy-dense than a human voice, but it’s also less draining on us as singers. Would that be a better intermediate healing option, in the future? For smaller wounds. Like the time you were injured on the balcony and you healed yourself by drinking from the radio.”

Minhyuk considered, then nodded. A live single musician at close range was much more potent than musicians over radio.

“Injured on the balcony?” Myungjun asked.

Dongmin winced. “Never mind.”

“What should we do after dinner?” Sanha asked.

“Sleep,” Jinwoo said firmly.

“Clean up first,” Dongmin said virtuously.

One thing Minhyuk wanted to avoid was Myunjgun trying to give away his voice again, because he had deep suspicions about how he’d suddenly and totally lost his voice last night, so he wrote on Myungjun’s wrist, had Myungjun speak for him.

“Tonight everyone should relax and take very good care of their skin. If we can’t go to the sauna, we should make the sauna come to us.”

Bin started to smile, and then he paused. “Wait, does that mean face packs?”

Minhyuk smiled sweetly at him.

After they cleaned up supper, they took turns taking showers, and they made a big nest of blankets and pillows in the den. Minhyuk assembled their collection of skin care products and fuzzy head bands. Jinwoo built a playlist of chill but trendy music. Sanha and Bin made sure they had refreshing drinks and healthy snacks.

“Obviously,” Dongmin said, “we have to take online quizzes while we do this, to pass the time for our masks.”

“Quizzes?” Myungjun asked.

Dongmin said, solemnly, “Don’t you want to find out who your Astro soulmate is?”

The others burst out laughing.

Minhyuk wished he had a camera so he could preserve this moment. These were his brothers, his best friends, his comrades in arms. For five years, it had been the six of them against the world.

But there was no time to dwell on that now.

The setup was simple: while one got pampered, the second brushed his hair and gave him a scalp and ear massage, the third took care of his skin, the fourth gave him a hand rub, the fifth gave him a foot rub, and the sixth kept him fed and hydrated. Once all of them had their masks in place, Dongmin read increasingly ridiculous internet quizzes that had them all laughing and struggling to keep their masks in place.

The final quiz of the night was them all taking a quiz to see who their Astro soulmate was. Somehow, all of them but Minhyuk ended up with Sanha, which made him eternally smug.

“Minhyuk’s pouting,” Sanha said, clutching his stuffed lion and giggling. “He got Myungjun-hyung but hyung got me too.”

Bin scoffed. “Minhyuk probably only got hyung because he rigged the answers, not because he answered honestly.”

“It says something about how well Minhyuk knows you,” Jinwoo said to Myungjun, “that he was able to get you.”

“Apparently everyone knows me and loves me the best.” Sanha framed his face with his hands and preened.

Once the quizzes were done, they could all take off their masks and wash their faces, and they brushed their teeth and settled down to sleep.

Jinwoo turned the lights off. He and Dongmin slept on the edges of their little pile, the team guardians. Minhyuk and Myungjun were allowed to sleep together as they’d firmly promised to engage in zero hanky-panky. Sanha insisted on sleeping on the other side of Myungjun, leaving Bin curled beside Dongmin.

“Good night, everyone,” Sanha called out.

The others said their good nights.

Minhyuk whistled a ward for the door.

“What was that?” Jinwoo asked sleepily.

“Protection for the night,” Dongmin said.

Jinwoo patted Minhyuk on the hip, and together they tumbled into dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to go with Minhyuk on his virtual date, really just check out the cute Seoul tourism videos Eunwoo did on YouTube, but they really are best viewed on a mobile because they're VR:
> 
> [Part One](https://youtu.be/FJcs9wH2ZUo)
> 
> [Part Two](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0yAJxhHQD7o)
> 
> [Part Three](https://youtu.be/SQk1AObFob0)
> 
> The poem Minhyuk whispers for Myungjun is One-Sided Love by Lee Nam-Il:
> 
> "That voice, which happened to call my name.   
> I loved that voice.   
> I stay up all night dreaming about that one gesture.  
> And I fantasize about our future because of your smile.  
> When your scent brushed by me and told me that it loved me.  
> I shattered to pieces as if I was sunlight." 
> 
> Also, you can find out who your Astro soulmate is [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p-hXINCGcFU).


	29. Chapter 29

It occurred to Minhyuk, as he stumbled to the van with the others first thing the next morning, that he had never just watched the others perform. He’d never had to sit out of team performances before, and during concerts when the others had solo numbers, at best he monitored from backstage, but he’d never been able to be in the audience or stand in the wings of the stage and watch. Today would be his first time - and his last. So he was going to make the best of it. He’d take lots of pictures and videos. He’d do his best to stay out of Manager’s pictures and videos, to save staff the trouble of editing him out later. But he would be there for his teammates. 

He acted as one of the other staff instead. While the others were doing a final technical rehearsal, for camera and light and sound cues, he stayed off the stage, holding water bottles and fans, ready to assist them at a moment’s notice. The venue for the virtual concert was owned by a company that specialized in virtual events. They had a special broadcast stage, plus an entire team of subtitlers who’d provide live subtitles in multiple languages, so Minhyuk had to be discreet and not act too affectionate toward Myungjun. 

After the technical rehearsal, there was a final musical rehearsal, and then it was go time. 

Backstage, Minhyuk hovered out of frame of the cameras. He held makeup brushes and hair brushes and hair clips, makeup pots and hairspray bottles, blow dryers and hair irons, hair curlers and more. He carried costumes, juggled shoes and socks, and generally did his best to make himself useful. When Jinwoo was nervous about being the primary MC, Minhyuk gave him a shoulder rub. When Sanha tried and failed twice to use the soundboard to get laughs and cheers, Minhyuk guided him through several deep breathing exercises. Minhyuk and Bin stretched out and warmed up together. Minhyuk helped Dongmin find a lost ring that he wanted to perform with. Myungjun had a bit of a panic attack when he thought he’d lost his voice again, and Minhyuk managed to find a little out of the way closet where he could kiss Myungjun and calm him down and, since they had a few minutes, drink a song off his phone and give it to Myungjun as well.

And then it was time for the concert itself.

Minhyuk stood behind the bank of computers with Manager and the rest of the staff who didn’t have to remain backstage, including a few wide-eyed interns who’d been selected to come along to help (and who’d been baffled when they hadn’t been asked to hold bottles of water or fetch snacks in the break room, as Minhyuk had done it all for them).

Minhyuk had a whiteboard and pen handy so he could communicate with the interns.

Even though Minhyuk wasn’t going to be onstage with the others, he could feel the adrenaline build in him just the same as the countdown began, as the lights dropped and the others took their places onstage. The lights came up, and the music started, and Minhyuk signaled the interns.

They picked up their glittery signs obediently.

As soon as the music started, they started to wave their signs just like Minhyuk had instructed, so they’d read just like the fanchant for the song.

Minhyuk knew as soon as his teammates saw, because their eyes widened and their smiles brightened, but they were professionals and they focused on the cameras right away.

Fans might think that being an idol would take all the magic out of watching a concert, but it was the opposite. Minhyuk knew exactly how much work went into every song, every performance, and to see his teammates up on stage, hitting their marks and their moves and their notes perfectly, was breathtaking. Even though he was an idol, he was perfectly capable of being a fan of other teams and artists, because he admired their skill and artistry and talent. This was the first time he’d been able to stand back and really watch his teammates perform, hear their voices soaring and filling a room without the din of fans, without the undercurrent of his in-ear monitor.

Bin was a spectacular performer. Singer. Dancer. Star. He had finesse and charm, strength and grace. His voice had grit and flexibility. His smile could be sexy or sweet. He was recapturing the swagger and confidence he’d had in the training room when they’d taken rap lessons together. Minhyuk had stood beside him in the practice room and together they’d grown from boys into men, stood shoulder to shoulder in the classroom and on the stage and in front of the cameras for all the world to see. Bin was the older brother Minhyuk had always been blessed to have.

Sanha was a star on a meteoric rise. He was a better dancer than anyone gave him credit for, his voice sweet with a full, rounded tone that would just grow sweeter and fuller as he grew further into manhood. He was getting stronger and more confident, and when he finally reached his peak he’d be unstoppable. Minhyuk watched him glide across the stage and was fiercely proud of him.

Jinwoo was powerful and hard-hitting, sliding out of the background with his deep voice and his sharp dance moves, his sexy little smirk and his devastating confidence. Between songs, he was a leader. While he was performing, he was a champion. He owned every inch of the stage he was on even when he wasn’t in the center of it, but he knew how to share it, how to highlight his teammates when it was their turn to shine. He wasn’t afraid to let them shine because no one could outshine him. No one watching him perform would believe he was as slow-moving and slow-talking as he was off-stage, and his ability to transform was evidence of how incredible a performer he was.

When his rap verse arrived, Minhyuk jumped up and down and waved his glittery green turtle sign proudly, and the interns around him giggled, but he didn’t even care.

Dongmin, when he was onstage, was Cha Eunwoo, every inch the beautiful prince fans believed him to be, talented and sweet, sexy and bold. He’d worked so hard and come so far. Minhyuk could remember his first day in the training room, when the trainee manager had introduced him to Bin, since they were the same age, and asked Bin to take care of him and help him catch up, and it had been immediately evident that Dongmin hadn’t sung or danced a day in his life. The instructors and evaluators hadn’t cared one lick for Dongmin’s inexperience, and every week during evaluations they’d laid into him, and more than once Minhyuk had heard him crying quietly in the dorms. But he’d picked himself up and he’d worked hard, and on top of everything else he had to do - modeling, commercials, acting, MC gigs, variety shows - he’d kept on working hard, and now he looked amazing.

And then there was Myungjun. 

Minhyuk could remember the first time the trainee manager brought Myungjun into the practice room, and Minhyuk had been startled by who he’d thought was younger, who was smaller than Sanha, more petite than Jinwoo, with dark, dark eyes and delicate features, who was quiet and was unassuming. He’d eventually sidled up to Sanha and introduced himself, assuming Sanha was older than him because he was taller, and to everyone’s surprise he’d been the oldest of them all, already graduated from high school. After that, he’d mostly kept to himself, staying in the corner to practice, though once in a while he’d burst out with a stunningly bright smile when Sanha joked with him. He’d caught on to the dance moves quite quickly, and what he lacked in form and finesse he made up for with energy and enthusiasm, throwing his whole self into the choreography. The first time he’d sung, Minhyuk’s heart had literally stopped for a moment. 

This was the first time since training that Minhyuk had been able to stand on the other side of the stage and watch Myungjun perform, and he was stunning. His smile while he sang was radiant; he truly enjoyed performing, for all that he’d entered idol training with an ulterior motive. When he hit the high notes for the final chorus, Minhyuk’s eyes slid closed, and he forgot to breathe.

Minhyuk and the interns waved their signs in time with the closing portion of the fanchant, and the song ended, and there was a sound effect for canned applause while the others held their final pose.

They slid right into the next song, from their previous comeback, and Minhyuk and the interns readied their signs. Minhyuk wondered how Bin felt, from having to sit out this comeback last time to picking up a rap part this time.

It occurred to Minhyuk that fans would never get to see all six of them performing this song. But the five of them looked amazing, and to see Bin finally performing this song like he deserved to was like a wish come true, and Minhyuk jumped up and down and waved the sign with Bin’s name with abandon.

The song ended with Myungjun’s signature soaring notes and Dongmin’s impressive final chorus, and Minhyuk wished he could cheer.

The others held their final pose like pros while there was canned applause, then they bowed and the lights came up, and they addressed the cameras like they were addressing an actual audience. The interns and Minhyuk slid over behind one of the other cameras to be a real audience, and Bin’s grin widened.

Over one tech’s shoulder, Minhyuk could see comments flying up the screen. Of course, someone was monitoring the comments and making sure they stayed appropriate. Another tech was typing rapidly - subtitles, Minhyuk realized, while his teammates were talking and laughing, joking with each other.

Something in Minhyuk’s chest tightened when they made their team greeting. When was the last time he’d done that with them? Suddenly he couldn’t remember.

The others were sweet and charming, talking to the fans, about how much they missed them but were glad to be able to connect to them this way and perform for them. They planned to show them new sides and make good memories and also remember other good times. Sanha was clever and savage with the laugh machine, and of course the others had a play-scuffle on stage.

The entire show was like a dream. The acoustic set was stunning, Sanha on guitar, honey-sweet harmonies from all of them, including Jinwoo. The second half was like a musical, their title songs woven together with the upbeat songs from their newest album in a low-key medley that the five of them carried in bits and pieces, sliding from one to another, shedding and pulling on costume pieces as they went so they started as their brightly-garbed selves from Hide-and-Seek trying to communicate through a mirror and ended at All Night, wearing white and pastels and playing hide and seek among a multitude of flowers.

After the medley of songs from the new album - including a stunning dance performance to Jinwoo’s new song - there was a break and a pre-recorded segment so the others could change into new costumes.

It was of the six of them, still with their brightly-colored hair from comeback promotions, in the studio recording the song Dongmin and Minhyuk had written.

He had forgotten it would be performed for the first time tonight.

Minhyuk, Jinwoo, and Bin had begun working on preliminary choreography during comeback promotions, toying with things here and there in waiting rooms and green rooms. They’d come up with a vague concept and settled on the choreography for the chorus, at least.

Familiar music spilled over the speakers, and Minhyuk’s chest tightened. 

Minhyuk knew he could trust Jinwoo and Bin to come up with something genius. What they’d come up with had continued on with the theme of a musical, mostly centered around Sanha as the main character who didn’t want to lose the person he loved but was too afraid to tell her to stay.

It sounded so good. Minhyuk’s throat tightened when he heard his own voice on the MR track. Around him, the interns were swaying along to the music, smiling, and he was pleased, since he’d worked hard on the melody.

At the end, he wanted to applaud, but the canned applause track would drown him out anyway.

Dongmin smiled at the camera. “How was it?” he asked the fans. “Did you like it? We worked very hard on it. In about one hour -” he pretended to look at an invisible wristwatch - “the song will be available for streaming and download, as will the music video. Please give it lots of love!”

The others clapped and patted him on the shoulder, and his grin was genuinely wide and bright, and Minhyuk was fiercely proud of him. They’d written that song sincerely and under tough circumstances.

The final two songs were fan favorites, the ones that always got energy running high, Call Out and One in a Million. The interns were surprised when Bin and Sanha started playing tag onstage, only half singing. The staff were only half-surprised when the entire team dashed off the stage and into the staff area, among the rows of computers. Of course Jinwoo and Dongmin danced with Manager, who was waving a light stick gamely but also ducking his head so as not to show his face. Minhyuk had supplied the interns with light sticks for the final song, because that only seemed right, and he ducked his face behind one of the purple slogans (one with Myungjun’s name on it, because he was a little shameless, and it wasn’t like he’d never waved one with Myungjun’s name before).

At the end, when the director finally called cut, the interns cheered with abandon, and Minhyuk charged the stage to hug his teammates even though they were breathless and sweaty. They swept him into a hug so tight he couldn’t breathe, and they were laughing and high on adrenaline. Together, the six of them stumbled for the dressing room. It was still early, as the concert had started at three in the afternoon, so they could go have a massive meal in celebration and then huddle together and read the comments on the fan cafe and SNS together.

Once they were all changed, they assembled back on the stage to thank all the staff and crew, and Minhyuk directed the interns to distribute little gifts they’d made for all the staff and crew, candy and treats wrapped up in mugs with the team logo on them, and then they headed back to the dressing room to gather up their personal belongings.

Instead of driving them back to the company, they convinced Manager to have the van drop them off at a popular beef restaurant. It was a little shameless, but they pushed Dongmin to the front to have him sweet-talk the hostess into letting them have a private room even though they didn’t have a reservation. She didn’t recognize him, but he was handsome and polite and well-dressed, and the rest of them managed to behave long enough for her to believe they were important enough customers, but as soon as she was gone, they were toasting each other with drinks and giddy with the adrenaline of it all.

“Your posters were beautiful,” Myungjun said, raising his glass to Minhyuk. “Our fans would be proud.”

“How did we do? What did you think?” Bin asked.

Minhyuk had so many thoughts about how well they’d done, and his fingers were flying on his phone. The others smiled and laughed and hugged each other and hugged him, and they were all so happy that when the waitress arrived they realized they’d forgotten to look at the menus, so they had to ask for more time. They took all kinds of photos and videos, and they toasted each other some more. Finally, they were ready to order, and Minhyuk told them about his favorite parts, and they talked about the parts they were the most nervous about, and the parts they nearly screwed up and the parts they did screw up.

Dongmin, Jinwoo, and Bin were most anxious about what Minhyuk thought of the performance of No, Don’t.

_ It was amazing. You did so well. I loved it. _

They remembered that the music video had dropped by then.

“Should we watch it, or should we film a reaction video of us watching it?” Sanha asked.

“We should just watch it,” Bin said, searching for it on YouTube and setting his phone out so all of them could see. They all crowded around, food temporarily forgotten, and watched.

“Wow, noona’s so beautiful,” Dongmin said.

“We’re lucky she agreed to do this for us,” Sanha said.

“Gichan must be so flattered that she chose him to be her leading man,” Bin added.

Jinwoo watched thoughtfully. “This was shot so well. I really like the editing.”

Myungjun nudged Minhyuk. “You look really good.”

He smiled and mouthed,  _ So do you. _

After, Dongmin sat back, satisfied. “I think that turned out really well. It’s quite different from a lot of our other videos, but it turned out well.”

Very well, considering all the madness that had gone on around it.

“Let’s keep eating,” Bin said, scooping his chopsticks back up, “and think about what we want for dessert.”

Dessert was a small chocolate cake that they all shared, and after that, it was back to the company to report in. The six of them split the fares for two taxis, and at the company - no one seemed to notice that they didn’t have Bora, Bomi, and Seolwoo with them like they were supposed to - they met with the PR team for a debriefing, mostly a quick review of what the post-concert stats were, how many tickets sold, how many viewers (since there was a possibility of two devices per ticket and plenty of fans were letting friends stream on a second device if they were strapped for cash), and what the initial press reviews were like (mostly positive), plus first-hour stats on their new digital single.

Of course, having Yoona in the music video had helped with streaming counts on YouTube, but the old rumors of Yoona and Dongmin dating were cropping up again, as well as new rumors of a bigger Yoona and Dongmin collaboration in the future (starring in a drama or a movie together).

Upper management was pleased with the team for working hard, and they were dismissed, given the next day off to relax and recover.

Minhyuk needed to stay behind.

The other five filed out, Dongmin, Bin, and Myungjun casting Minhyuk concerned looks. Jinwoo and Sanha cast him knowing looks; they’d be waiting after. 

“Minhyuk-ssi,” the PR lady said. “Your goodbye letter and its translations are acceptable. We’ve rendered translations in Chinese as well for now. Fans will probably take care of other languages.”

He nodded.

“And your final dance video is a masterpiece. Well done. We really are sad to be losing your talent,” she said. She sounded genuinely regretful.

Minhyuk nodded again and resisted the urge to point out that they hadn’t wanted to keep him enough to make a better offer than the one Yoona had made, but then he wouldn’t have accepted their offer anyway, because him working with Yoona wasn’t just about dancing and choreographing for her, not by a long shot.

“We’ll post the video and letter at midnight tonight.”

He nodded again. He sent a text to Manager.  _ I’ll be out of the dorm by morning. _

Team-jangnim nodded.

Minhyuk typed out,  _ Thank you for everything, and for taking care of me, and for working hard for me.  _

He rose, and he bowed respectfully to each of them, and to Manager three times, and he headed for the door.

At the door, Manager caught him and pulled him into a hug.

“Call me if you ever need me, all right?”

Minhyuk nodded. Managed squeezed him once and then stepped back, and Minhyuk bowed one more time before he left.

Jinwoo and Sanha were waiting outside one of the practice rooms, Jinwoo already armed with a video camera.

“Ready?” he asked.

Minhyuk nodded. He headed into the locker room to change - once again, his costume was ready for him - and he went back to the practice room. While he stretched out and warmed up, he explained his concept to Jinwoo using Sanha’s phone since it wasn’t hooked up to the sound system. He ran through the choreography a few times so Jinwoo could get a feel for it and figure out how he wanted to shoot.

And then it was time for the real thing.

Minhyuk started close to the camera, kneeling in front of it, like he was having a conversation with someone, and he whispered, for the last time,

“Wanna be your star. I’m Astro’s Rocky.” And he bowed his head.

Sanha started the music.

Minhyuk let the soft piano chords carry him to his feet, and then he was dancing with Myungjun’s voice, letting the melody and lyrics move him, push him and pull him and shape him. He became the story the song was telling, which was about a love that was too short and a goodbye that was inevitable.

Jinwoo called cut, and Minhyuk sank to his knees, breathing hard. Fast choreography wasn’t always harder. Slower choreography required more muscle control, and he was very, very tired and sore, but it was a good kind of sore, the kind he’d earned with good hard work.

“That looked really good,” Sanha said. “Should be an easy edit - fix the lighting a bit, chop off the beginning and end, put in titles, adjust the sound levels. Right, Jinwoo?”

“Right,” Jinwoo said. He sounded a little choked up.

Minhyuk raised his eyebrows.

“I’m fine,” Jinwoo said, pawing at his eyes.

“Aw hyung, are you crying?” Sanha asked.

“No,” Jinwoo said, even though the answer was clearly yes. He pressed several buttons on the camera and then pointed to the computer in the corner. “Get to editing.”

Sanha nodded and scrambled into the chair in front of the computer.

“You,” Jinwoo said to Minhyuk, scrubbing at his face some more. “Go clean up.”

Minhyuk bowed gratefully, then headed to the locker room. He showered, changed, and then cleaned out his locker. He left the lock and keys for the next person to use, and he returned to the practice room. Jinwoo was sitting beside Sanha, watching him work, making suggestions about font sizes and types and effects.

“Are we going to post this one online too?” Sanha asked. “You’d have to run this by the company first.”

Minhyuk texted Jinwoo.  _ It’s a gift for Myungjun. _

Jinwoo looked at him. “This is it, then. You’re really leaving.”

_ They’re posting the letter and other video at midnight. I’ll be out of the dorm by morning. _

“Do the others know?” Sanha bit his lip.

Minhyuk had letters written for each of them. They all knew when his time was up. Manager had given him ten days, till after the concerts, and the second concert was done. If Minhyuk didn’t have his voice back in ten days, he was off the team.

Here they were, ten days later, and here Minhyuk was, as silent as ever.

Minhyuk nodded.

“You can’t leave without saying goodbye,” Sanha said.

But dinner had been goodbye, and they’d all known it.

They’d all drunk a bit too much, eaten a bit too much, taken too many pictures and hugged too much and said  _ I love you _ so many times but still not enough.

“We’ll still see each other,” Jinwoo said. “With my luck, I’ll see you more than I see Nayoung.”

Minhyuk shrugged. He doubted it, but it was possible.

“And we can still make time to see each other. We’re allowed to still be friends,” Sanha added.

Jinwoo swatted him on the arm. “Finish editing.”

“There wasn’t a lot to do since you did a really good job filming,” Sanha said. “Look, it’s done.”

Jinwoo and Minhyuk focused their attention on the monitor, and Sanha pressed play.

It looked good. Sanha had done a pretty professional job, made the font so it matched Rocky’s other Y.Y.Y videos. He’d cleaned up the lighting and sound and cropped the clip so it didn’t include Minhyuk shuffling into place at the beginning or Jinwoo shouting  _ cut! _ at the end. And Sanha hadn’t just been flattering Jinwoo - the camera work really was well done. 

Minhyuk was pleased. It looked good. So good.

He hugged both of them.

“No, don’t, I’ll cry again,” Jinwoo protested.

When they got back to the dorm, the other three were waiting anxiously.

“What took so long?” Dongmin asked. “Is everything all right?”

Minhyuk nodded.

“He had to clean out his locker, among other things,” Sanha said, because that wasn’t a lie.

Myungjun bit his lip and ducked his head. He was trying not to cry.

It was Bin who insisted that they try meditating one more time. Minhyuk set his dance bag down in the half-empty bedroom, and they sat in a circle in the den, and Bin walked them through the exercises. 

Once again, Myungjun sang Bloom.

Once again, it didn’t work.

Afterwards, no one else said a word.

It was Dongmin who texted Bora, Bomi, and Seolwoo.

Granny was surprised to see all nine of them file into the convenience store and load up on soju and beer like it was going out of style.

“Did you have another good week at work?” she asked.

It was Jinwoo who said, “Minhyuk got another job, and he’s moving, so we’re throwing him a goodbye party.”

Granny frowned. “You’re moving away from your brothers? That’s so sad. But a new job is so exciting! I hope it comes with a big pay raise. Work hard, Minhyuk-ah. I’m very proud of you. Is your throat feeling better?”

“He still can’t talk,” Dongmin said quietly.

Granny smiled sympathetically. “Well, don’t party too hard, boys. Have a pack of prawn chips, on me. Good luck at your new job!”

They thanked her, paid, and marched back to the dorm, and proceeded to get drunk. All of them but Minhyuk, at any rate. 

Myungjun fell asleep after half a bottle of soju, and Minhyuk carried him to bed, tucked him in, and put a ward on the door so the noise of the others wouldn’t disturb him. Sanha threw up after a bottle and a half of soju and a can of beer, and Dongmin and Jinwoo had to clean him up and tuck him in bed, and Dongmin put a ward on the door for him. Jinwoo was the next to fall asleep, and Bin and Dongmin tucked him in bed.

It was well past midnight before Dongmin admitted defeat, and finally it was just Bin and Minhyuk.

“Just like old times, huh?” Bin slurred. “Ancestors forever, right? Except I guess Ancestors ends now.”

Minhyuk patted his shoulder helplessly.

“I get why you did it,” Bin continued. “I’d have done the same thing if I could. But it’s not fair. We worked so hard, and we came so far, and it’s not fair. We were child stars. Why did we have to be child soldiers too?”

He was talking about himself and Dongmin, mostly.

Minhyuk patted his shoulder again, then helped him to his feet.

“I can walk by myself,” Bin protested.

He could not.

“I’m heavy. You can’t carry me.”

Minhyuk could.

“Damn. You - you really are stronger than a normal human.”

Minhyuk tucked Bin into his bed, kissed his forehead, closed the door, and warded it one last time.

He put the letters for each of his teammates on the kitchen counter for them to find, except Myungjun’s, which he’d leave in the bedroom with the flash drive, which contained the videos with the dance Sanha had edited for him, as well as the date video he’d managed to edit himself.

He texted Yoona to let her know he was ready to go, and he moved soundlessly through the dorm, packing up the last of his things and moving them into the hallway just outside the door, making sure no trace of him was left.

He sat and meditated one last time, because he had to try. Then he went into the bedroom where Myungjun was sleeping, set the letter and the flash drive on the desk, leaned down, and kissed Myungjun goodbye. He closed his eyes and visualized himself saying the words one more time.

_ Myungjunnie, I love you. _

When he opened his eyes, Myungjun was still sleeping soundly.

Minhyuk turned and slipped out of the room, closed the door quietly behind him, and whistled a final protective ward. 

As he headed for the door and said goodbye to his life and his friends, he didn’t hear Myungjun stir and murmur,

“Minhuykie, did you say something?”

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So much gratitude to everyone who read along, and of course to Selenic, without whom this story could not have been possible!

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley


End file.
